Bad Moon Rising
by My-Lover-Gren-Gren
Summary: "But Daddy! How many soul mates can one person 'ave?" "As many as your heart can bear to hold" Hershel responded. Set after Alone, Beth's taken, AU. Those left alive, they aren't always 'good people'. Life ain't a fairy tail. Most of the time, when everythin' goes to shit, you'll only have yourself to rely on. No one's gunna save you, no one's comin' for you. It's just you vs them.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So... I couldn't stop thinking about the most recent episode (alone), and I wanted to develop something based off it. This takes off post "Alone" and taps into a few things I'm studying right now in University; Christian sexual ethics, humanity studies, and gender.**

**(edit) I may not be pairing Daryl and Beth. I did used to think their pairing was rather creepy... however, after seeing Coda and the episode prior/episodes following my opinion on the matter HAS changed. When I first began this story it was after Alone in season 4. During that time I thought of them as nothing more than platonic soul-mates. Let me know what you all think, and I'll see what is wanted by you, the readers, and then come to my own conclusions which will fit the plot. (end edit). I think they've got a bond, but as I've experienced in life you don't need there to be anything sexual between two beings for their to be a soul-mate type of bond going on. **

**The story will likely be M rated for violence, even if we all decide they should be paired - I won't be writing fluff or intense sexual scenes. Something I love about AMC and TWD is there isn't any of that really in it. They allude to sexual moments but rarely get too graphic. Nor will I. Due to my university studies and various things I've dealt with I'll build on true-life stories of hardship and human development in order to keep a realistic flow to the human experiences between the characters. **

**Beth has been taught to view the world in a sort of dualistic stoic approach; essentially this is what life throws at you, you take in stride and you bear it as "god" would want you to. I'm not a religious person AT ALL. But I am deriving her understanding from my RS studies at school. Daryl will be as in character as I hope I can write, he's obviously mysterious to us all so when he comes in next chapter let me know if you need to to change how I'm writing him.**

**I think that's all I need to say... so let's let Beth take the lead from here;**

The preview song for this season "Bad Moon Rising" is sort of what helped me develop the title a bit and the thoughts of darkness that will end up playing around in our characters heads.

\- Note: this will include other characters as I go. But it begins end of "Alone".

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**Chapter 1**

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**Beth POV...**

_Daddy always said that life had some kind'a purpose, something meant to happen, you know? And our Pastor, Nelson, used to tell us all about we had to bear witness, with stoicism and strength. When life hit us down we had to realize there must'a been some good reason God dealt us that hand... so when all this bad started happening I believed, I believed that it was for some kind'a reason. Some sort'a test on our becoming of humanity._

_Daddy told me to never give up hope in good people. That everyone had a way of bein' good, if they had the right faculties to their disposal. Sometimes, people get lost, sometimes they don't know right from wrong no more. But that's what Daddy said would happen, and he said it was up to us to make sure bad people don't do bad things. To make them better, if we can, to make them realize they ain't hurtin' no one but themselves._

_Pastor Nelson used to preach real heavily on forgiveness, that it's our responsibility, as good Christians, to forgive those who wronged us. With enough forgiveness in the world we'd find hope, and any emptiness that had been caused, any harm unto us, would be null, and we'd be free again, and God would love us just that much more._

_Maybe it's silly that I'd kept up that hope for so long. That I'd believed everyone could be good, and when the world went... when it went like this... that maybe not everyone was good, but, maybe they had once been, could again – and that there still then could be good people._

_I think when I saw that blood spurt out of him, down his shoulder and chest, that I almost forgot everything he'd said. But then... in those last few days, I grappled with god, with askin' him why? Why he'd taken my Daddy, why he'd shown me as it happened. And I think what I knew then, is what Daddy said; everyone has a purpose. I guess he just had fulfilled his already. To make us all better, to save Carl, to make me stronger, and to help Rick with his demons, to save Glen when he'd been ill... and to help us all remember that if we're good, then so are others. He'd reminded me that above all hope is stronger than anythin' else._

_I guess it's ironic... that my belief in what he'd told me became stronger once he was gone. But I have to believe there was a reason... that the Governor was once a good man gone wrong. No one becomes that wrong without first bein' good, and then losin' everything that matters, and all the hope that he thought the world had to offer. So I guess I forgive him... because this world made him into what he was, and I could see why... even if I never would like it, and even if it took what he lost from me. And so I can't hate him... not entirely anyways... that just wouldn't be right, in Daddies books._

_And so when I lost all the things that mattered to me, when everything went to shit at the prison... when Daryl grabbed me out and we took off... I knew that we had two options; become what killed Daddy, or hold on to what he taught us was most important in this world. I guess I sort'a made it my mission to help Daryl see what I saw. He needed a friend... I'd always thought so... but I never thought that person would be me, I never thought we'd be one-another's hope._

It was pitch black as I ran from the house. I'd yelled "I won't leave you!" But I knew he'd not let me, and I had to trust that God would let him be okay, I had to hope that Daddy was lookin' over us both, takin' care of us then, like always.

"Get out," he'd called back to me, and my feet listened, though my heart sank with ieach step I took.

The damn place was boarded up everywhere! I waited till the sounds drowned in the basement before I grabbed one of the chairs sitting near the fireplace and smashed it against the boarded window. With enough force and a couple more 'thwacks' two boards gave loose. I'm thin enough that I fit through, _thank goodness for our lack of food the past week or I'd have been stuck that much longer. _I hoisted myself through, not really bothering to look on the other side. I needed to get out, like I'd been told. But I didn't hit ground right away, a warm hand encircled my sore ankle, and I twisted and kicked yelling out against its hold. My heart beat faster, pounding hard as my breath hitched and I squirmed against the walker. There was a momentary popping sound and then I was in the bushes, dirt and weeds. My Ankle had popped and twisted twice as bad as before, but it gave way and slipped from my boot.

I felt fingers brush my hair, the window was low hanging, and the walker who took my boot was half- out now, but I could only make out its arms and bloodied face, its teeth gritting as it tried to stretch further forwards. I duct closer to the ground, and crawled backwards out, on my bum, away from the house. Once out of reach I stumbled to my feet.

"_Meet me at the road!"_

I looked out through the graveyard, and the trees, there it was; the road. On a good leg the stretch would be easily crossed, easy to dodge the incoming walkers. But this wasn't a good leg, and I hobbled forward, lookin' almost like one of _them_. But they knew different. They reached for me as I trudged on by, as I grit my teeth in pain and determination; _it would be fine_, I told myself, as I shove one back with all my force, I lost my footing, and nearly went down with it, but stumbled back, catching on a tree as its head thump back against a gravestone.

I would wait, in the road, or just by it till I saw him. And... if he took too long, I had my bag, so I'd be able to set camp close to, and I'd find him come morning. My brow furrowed in pain and exhaustion, and I felt my heart flicker in worry as I thought of the dog... I glanced back, had it been got by them, was that why it'd barked? It's dying yelp?

I felt my foot touch the leaf littered pavement. And looked back in front of me. I stopped short. There was a car, it had a white cross painted on the back window... There was no car before...

Hope; we could escape, I stepped forward, and my ankle started to give out, my bag was still open and supplies tumbled out. I looked 'round quick. No walkers close, they're all back beyond the bushes and trees, in the yard, by the house... Daryl... My hand encircled the cold metal can. "You get here, you hear," I whispered, continuing to mumble; "I found us a way out," as I set the black bag down to toss the contents back in.

When I saw the dark shoes appear, and halt beside my right I smiled. "Knew you'd make it," I said, grinning softly. I glanced up, eyes wide with pride in my convictions. But my face fell, my hope plummeted and my heart stopped beatin' all together.

He stood over me, and just behind him was a one eyes growling white dog, flanking his side, teeth chattering, and dripping. The man was in dark pants, and a black shirt, a white pastor's collar peeking through the top. He held a boot in his hand. And he was covered from head to toe in the blackened blood of walkers. It hadn't been a walker on my heel at all... it'd been a man... a priest? The... had it been the owner of the house?

"Did you now?" His voice was like thick oil permeating over water, drownin' it under its weight. This was one of those... one of the good people who'd lost it all. The good people who'd forgotten how to hope. He raised a glinting silver gun and inclined his head. "Get up."

My breath hitched. "You – you were in the house?" I asked suddenly, in one breath, "You tried to grab me."

The dog snarled.

"Get up."

I went to toss the remaining supplies that'd spilt into the bag. He cocked the gun and I froze. "Up. Don't make me tell you again girl."

I rose slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements. I held my hands up, and chose to stare at my boot, in his right hand. He held the gun in his left. His hair was matted with blood and grime. Like the rest of him. "You took the bait Mouse, fell into the trap," he smirked slyly as he advanced forward, grabbing the knife Daryl had given me from my hands, and tossing it beside my black backpack. He dropped my boot too, the dog grabbed it, chomping down hard, I heard the wood of the cowboy boots soul snap.

With his now free hand the priest grabbed me by the chin, his overly long nails cutting into my throat and jaw line, blood trickled down. Before I could make myself move or speak, or even make a sound, he had me dragging by the neck behind him. He unlatched the trunk. My eyes were glancing around wildly, to the bushes, the trees, I caught sight of the house, the darkness and the remaining walkers... the stars... they were what I saw last.

_Daryl, Daryl, damn-it where are you? _I draw a sharp breath as he shoved me down and forwards, into the darkness of the car. He slammed the trunk down, it smashed into my bad ankle bouncing back open. I howled in pain, and drew the injured and barefoot to my person. The lid latched above me. And all light was lost.

I heard the front door open, and close softly. The scuffle of the dog in the back seat. The ignition turn on. There was a faint sound of running footsteps on pavement, just after the snapping of a branch. The car lurched forward, I rolled fast as the momentum thrust be painfully against the metal of the latched car. "Beth!" I heard him bellow, "Beth!"

" Daryl!" I yelped back as I felt us speeding off, away from him... but he'd made it... like he said he would... he'd held his promise, he'd made it to the road... I hadn't held up my half. I left him... I left him. "Daryl!" I cried, slamming my fists into the cold metal. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I so stupid Daryl," I whimpered, knowing he'd blame himself... just like he'd confessed the other night to blaming himself for the losses at the prison...

"There are good people," I muttered to myself. "Daddy, there are good people, right?"

_In the darkness here, and nothing more, I clung to the hope that Daryl would remember me the way I remembered Daddy... that he'd see the reason I'd been there, that he'd understand... and while I hoped for that... I felt the sinking sensation as I tried to come to term with the turmoil God was puttin' me through. Tried to make sense of why I had to bear this burden that was becoming my future... for however long that would last. After all... I'd heard the stories about what'd happened to Maggie when she'd been in the Governor's clutches... and what that boy at the farm had done, why Daryl had beaten him... No one __**still **__good in this world grabs a girl and drives off, leaving her friend in the dust._

_But I guess I'll just have to wait, to see what this plan is, and why I'm to endure it._

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**Let me know what you think, and I'm already working on the next chapter so when I get some feedback to help me along I will likely post it up soon.**


	2. Chapter 2: Revelations

**AN: So let me know what you're thinking... essentially you will figure out what I've done with the time line as you read. If you're uncertain what's going on think back to episode 11 (season 4) - there was someone with the group not so much enjoying their time in the basement when Rick woke up to the sounds of the scuffle. **

Hope you like it ;)

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Daryl POV...

Bastards got me nooked . Can't run from 'em, Can't be one of 'em. Beth had given me some kinda hope I'd lost along the way. She was like Hershel, like her old man in the ways she could talk you into believing in something greater, some higher purpose. And for what? To lose her in a moment of recklessness. I'd gone an' opened that damn door because I wanted to catch her some scruffy dog, because o' the way 'er eyes twinkled when she said _"but you said there was a dog Daryl!"_.

Hauntin', that's what she's doin' now. Hauntin' my head with thoughts of _what if_. Well there ain't no good in 'what if's'. There aint no good in dreamin'. The fool in me just wanted to make that girl happy, after she'd lost so much, and yet there I was, getting her nabbed in a world full of sick fuckers.

I didn't speak to Joe, or his men. Just walked. Went along for the ride, until I'd find my way out. Until I could make my way back to the road.

"Town's up ahead – got some homes to raid boys, lock and load em'," Joe drawled, with a sly smile as he stretched his arms out triumphantly, a darkened sense of bliss rising off of him. "Get us some grub, and anything else there might be."

I needed to think, to figure out my surroundins'. See if I could catch them on the down low, or... worse came to worst I knew I'd have to play along, be a soldier in their game until I saw my moment to slip out, and return to cling to... _to what? To hope? – hope was fading, fast, hope left in that car._ But I guess you might consider me some kind of loyal friend, maybe even some mutt like the one I tried to catch for 'er. Hell the girl already had one loyal mutt, why'd she need another so bad?

I ground my teeth, squaring my jaw before spittin on the railroad. Roads lead to nowhere no more, tracks're just about the same no doubt.

I was shoved forward, the one with the bow coming up behind me as he smirked. "Keep movin' wings," he taunted "quit lookin' so downcast, aint nothin' in the world to be sad over. Don't you get it man, we can get whatever we want, do whatever we want, and live however we want."

"That so?"

"Sure thing, just ask the boss," he thrust his chin toward Joe. "He done good for us men. We're our own men cause'a him. He got us livin' the _good_ life, you know what I mean?"

I did. "Not so sure yours and mine are the same thing boy."

"You'll see. Just wait till ya get some fresh meat to dive into, or that rush of a kill. You wait and you'll see what I mean about how this world – right here – this world is a _mans_ world, the kind we can _thrive_ in."

"Uh-huh," I nodded, not wanting to cause any ruckus yet, he wasn't worth the fight yet. I knew what he meant by diving into fresh meat. I'd heard the term before. But I'd never get away alive if I blew it now. I drew a gritty breath. "Alright, Mr. Freedom, wanna practice what you preach and gimmy a damn cigarette – if you got one on you?" It was more a demand than a question. It ain't my first rodeo; just a damn badly timed one.

He walked ahead, but not before tossing a pack at my chest. It thwacked against the leather vest, but I caught it before it hit ground.

"His names Jimmy," said another, he had a black bandana across his forehead. "He's a prick. But hell," he laughed, "which of us aint?"

"Everyone in this damn world is one now, gotta be on your own to survive."

"That right," he asked. I just gave him a sideways look, no need to answer somethin' by reiterating what I'd already told 'im. "Well, Daryl, you didn't look like a man who was happy alone back before those tracks. You looked like a man who'd lost something, something important." He sneered out the last; "Care to share?"

It burned my insides as I said it, like the moonshine as it sank into my stomach. "Aint nothin' to lose, aint nothin' to care about out here – not anything past my own damn self."

He nodded and backed off a bit, Jimmy may have passed me, but I was still being flanked by remaining group. As we drew closer to a white house I felt a sinking sensation at the prospect of being inside with these men, outside walkers could break their formations, could give me an out... inside it was only about fearing the living. Not about killing the dead.

"_There's still good people Daryl," she sounded awful disappointed, and yet chastising in her tone. _ _"I dun' think the good ones survive." _

Her words were fresh in my mind, like razors reminding me how I'd told her that the good ones die... that she would die if she thought they didn't, and if she didn't play more rough.

The house we approached sat against a backdrop of dry and littered grass; fallen leaves, bit of plastic, cloths, and tin cans were strewn throughout the wild flowers and weeds which poked through the tall grass. The white framing and wooden porch were dusted with dirt – and in some places spatters of what undoubtedly was blood – illuminating the imperfections of the wooden panelling and porch; emphasizing the grooves and knots.

This house, this picture of what was, _the American dream_, sat here, standin' tall amongst the wreckage of a world forgotten. It seems some kind'a ironic symbol, some looming reminder that we still stand against the darkness of imperfection.

As we wound up the concrete path, I glanced down on the broken walk-way; someone else had been here, there were footprints, larger and smaller sets in dirt. Heeled boots, cowboy boots?, and something more flat... the smaller set was too scuffled up to make out entirely. _Maybe, these three would still be inside, maybe it'd give me a chance to get out while Joe's crew dealt with them._

They leapt the front steps, stumbling and banging on the wooden frame of the porch. I took the steps one at a time, and could feel the vibrations of their loud and abrasive movements. I guess they don' care much for bein' stealthy. Cocky bastards would get us killed if there were any big number o' walkers round here, like back at the funeral home. Two of them snickered, shoving one another briefly like school-boys fighting to look in a boarded up window. The boards would'a broken any good line o' sight at the darkness beyond.

It's white framing, big porch and windows reminded me o' the house last-night – but that sanctuary was lost, with the hope that it had housed. Lost was the music, and the smiles and the her sweet voice, annoying or not it'd always be better than silence or negativity.

And here I am like the loyal mutt she must think me to be, and I'd follow through, I'd find her, I'd hold onto how she taught me to hope when hope seemed non-existent. Because this time, there was no way 'round it, I'd been responsible for her life and her safety and I'd fucked up. But I wouldn't let go, not yet.

Bandana, I didn't bother to learn none o' their names, not if I could help it, spoke up, his voice drawing my attention back to the present; "Won't budge Joe," his voice held uncertainty, and he looked like a guilty animal, waiting to be scolded for disobeying its master. A sort of boyish quality about him in the moment.

"Gotta be another way in stupid, get round, find it, and let us in. Unless you need someone tellin' you every set in life I'd get to it."

He nodded quickly and leapt down, over the right side of the porch, jumping the rail and disappeared behind the house. I scowled, squinting my eyes at Joe. "Ain't you gunna get someone to back 'im up," I asked "Or you just in the habit of seein' your men to be expendable?"

He smirked jaggedly at me, rubbing a hand through his hair "You offering?"

"Naw," I shook my head once, and rubbed some sweat off my chin with the back of my free hand, the other still clutching my crossbow. "I doubt you'd let me back any o' yours up. I might drop them."

His steely eyes sparkled at me, a strong grin spreading across his taunt face, his skin shaping sharp lines as he chuckled darkly, "You're right. I don't got no reason to trust you. But you know what Daryl? I know you, I know everything about you. Just like I know all about the rest of them. Like a wounded dog, wild and rearin' to bite," he paused inching forward slightly, away from the pillar he'd been leaning on. "I'll break you, I'll train you to listen, and listen you will. Because the need to survive, that'll be all that matters soon, and me, my boys, my _dogs_, we always survive."

The others had turned expectantly to us, no longer peering into the dark house, their energies were excited, like they were all about to pounce given the right word. I shifted, glancing around at them briefly before I looked him square in the eye; "you can try. Ain't got nothing left to lose. Nothing left to break."

"There's always somethin'. And I'll find it, I'll sniff it out," he advanced like a predator going in for the kill, until he was just but an inch or two from me. Then he leaned forward, nearer to my shoulder, and sniffed – inhaling dramatically. "That pain, it'll be the whip, I'll drive you with it till you crack, till you can't take no more. Don't test a man of my position. Or we'll be findin' out exactly what matters most and takin' it with pleasure."

I slung my bow over my shoulder, breathing out as slow as I could manage, it came out all scratchy. My irritation increasingly evident. But as I'd moved it over my shoulder, my arms had hit his chest, inadvertently shoving him back, out of my space. "What'a you know," I muttered.

"That you looked like you lost somethin' mighty important, and recently. That I saw a car speed down the road past us."

I flinched, it was only a twitch, I tried to stop my reaction, but my emotions got the better of me and I felt a wave of hope wash over me, Joe knew which way they'd taken her... but that also meant he know something I wanted had been taken.

"You cooperate and we'll talk about helpin' to get you back what you lost friend, just help us clear this house first, right?"

And the hope that had ignited was just as soon extinguished. I couldn't go on askin' him, or his men where the car'd gone... I couldn't risk these men findin' out about _her_. They were no good, and that would wind her up in just as bad a spot as she was now. "Alright," I murmured. "Let's clear it then."

The door pulled open, breaking the tension as the mean jumped to rampage into the house. "Someone's been in 'ere," said Bandana. "Food stuff in the kitchen, and someone's slept on this couch here – had it all shoved up on the door."

"Yeah," I added clipping in "saw the footprints of three... leavin though, didn't look like they'd come back recently."

"So, you're a tracker?"

"Hunter," Joe let me pass, I didn't like him behind me, I liked to keep my eyes on him, make sure he wasn't up to nothin' fishy. But I didn't wanna push my luck neither, and I'd come close to on the porch. So I passed him, entering the house.

"Boys," he said slyly as I entered the house "let's get to know Daryl."

There was resounding laughter before I got knocked on my back as a rifle thwacked me hard in the face. I stumbled, and hit the couch. They pulled me forwards and continued to beat on me just the same. Outnumbered, out gunned, I was fucked. I knew the house would've been a bad idea. _Shit. _As they backed up a bit I pulled myself up, wobbling slightly. I stood my ground as they circled me. I looked at Joe, and spat the blood that was pooling in my mouth across his shoes.

They laughed and decked me another, I was more prepared this time, and I elbowed Jimmy hard as his fist impacted into my ribs. He bit back a yelp and skirted back to their circle. Laughter echoed through the house. _Fuck me._

"Where you from?" Joe asked, adjusting himself to lean across the couch, lookin' mighty pleased with himself.

"Ain't none o' your business," I slurred, I reached for my bow but three jumped forwards, two grabbing it off my shoulders, the other landing another cracking blow into my abdomen. I wheezed slightly as they pulled back, and stumbled to my knees.

"I'm gunna ask you once more, I think you're a smart man, and you've figured out what'll happen if you don't answer us; where you from?"

"Before all this or from when y'all found me out there?"

"Let's start with how you made it this far... work our way to how you ended up where you were."

"I was with a group, out'side o' Atlanta. Our camp got over-run, we migrated south, hit up the CDC for a while, that did't end so well neither. Ended up on this farm. Few o' our people got hurt and lost. We needed to get 'em. Some good, some bad there... also got over-run. The herds were gettin' bigger.

We ended up at a prison, took it over, made it our home. – "

"A prison?" Bandana jumped in, showing genuine interest. "Why're you out here, that woulda been secure, you crazy?"

"Shut up and let me finish and I guess you'd find out wouldn't you?" He advanced forward but Joe shook his head, holding up a hand before he nodded at me to continue. "Like I said, the herds were bad, they would get at the prison fences and sorta climb one another, couldn't get over, but the weight took down fences... then there was this guy, this leader of another group. He'd become enemy number one, the walkers were nothin' in comparison. He got some grudge against us, had his panties all in a knot... he took us out earlier this week. Most of ours got killed. The others split up, if they survived..."

I paused... I wasn't sure if I could lie my way outa the rest, but I'd try. "I ran for it, everyone else had grabbed what few cars we had, I was the last one left... so I took off, been runnin' ever since."

"And you just passed out on a road?"

"I guess losing everyone had to hit me eventually. They were my friends, I was responsible for them."

"What about the car?"

I glanced up at him, frowning. "What?"

"You stupid? What about the car, the one you were to interested in."

"Oh, right, that. I wanted to hitch with them. Other survivors. You know?"

His eyes turned to slits and he leaned forwards "yet us you were so reluctant to join. What was so important about the car?"

"Nothin' I said so already."

He glanced at his men. They drew closer. Ready to throw another hit. "The car...?"

I grit my teeth and bit my lips tightly together. No.

He nodded. One o' them kicked me hard in the back, felt a rib split as I collapsed to my side against the dusty floor, spitting more blood as the five of them pounded their heels into me, or the toes of their boots sharpened the splitting pain. Eventually they backed off, my vision was blurred with blood, and I felt my face puffing up, I wouldn't be able to see out of one eye at least. Not for a while anyway. They kept this up I'd be dead... if not from the initial blows from the internal injuries.

"The car?"

"They took her," I spat. "They grabbed her and I'd promised to protect her, keep her safe."

There were some sick jokes passed around his men, snickering and scuffing of feet as they made crude gestures. Joe didn't mind. "Her, you had a little lady."

I scowled at myself... but I'd be no good to Beth dead. I'd had to choose what was more important; giving up her information, or giving up on her... Couldn't choose the later.

"Well then, aren't you just a knight in shining armour Daryl. We'll help you find the little lady and we'll make sure she's real well taken care of. Jimmy, head on upstairs and check the rooms. Make sure we don't have any fleshy friends. The rest of you... relax a while. This one'll likely need some recovery time before he'll be able to help us find a few days of entertainment. Ain't that right?"

I wanted to beat the livin' shit outa him, bash his scull in. The rest of them too. But I'd have to wait... my time _would _come. I'd be sure of that. He leaned down to me, kneeling in front of me and ripped off one of my sleeves with the help of his knife. He padded the blood out of my eyes so I'd be able to see him better before saying; "told you I'd sniff you out. And now I know exactly how to break you."

He grabbed the cord that'd held the door shut and bound my wrists. His knot was sound, and given my level of energy, I'd be unable to work my way out'a it for a while. Bandanna went up the stairs, I could hear a scuffle before things settled down. Joe wondered away, snatching a tennis ball from the base of the stairs. Thump, thump, thump, the sound of it hitting the floor and rising into his hand again bounced around in my heard.

The downstairs group got roudy too, sayin' something about some shirt, a woman's. They claimed their turns with her... I'd known their type... but my blood ran cold when I glimpsed them toss the wet shirt around. _Michonne_.

The footprints I'd noticed;... Michonne must've been with Rick and Carl. They'd been in this house... one of them still was. There'd only been two sets leaving in the most recent track – though I'd told Joe no one was left... it'd been in hopes that they weren't gone at all, that they could help. And the small and flatter boots were heading away from the house when I'd seen 'em, leaving the heeled boots... _Rick_.

And there it was again, hope, coupled with deeply rooted worry. I had to find a way out, and make certain that no more of my friends were endangered. They couldn't find Michonne, worse yet... what would they do to Carl?

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**Reviews are much appreciated/thoughts too. Again wanna know how you feel about Daryl's characterization. So tell me. :) Thanks. **


	3. Chapter 3: Faith

**AN: Hope you're all likin' it so far. This chapter splits a bit. It'll have both of our favorites in it. Also there's a spot near the start that you might want the hyper link for;**

**If you want the link to the song that follows what happens in the car, here it is; watch?v=h3vY3pPY8-s**

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I'd clung to the darkness like some kind'a blanket that held my life. Because I knew when I see light again, life... it would be different... like I'd been born anew. Or like I'd come back to life... but different this time. Sort of like the rapture; I'd rise from this medal grave into a world unknown and once again I'd walk with the dead, but in a new sense... in a new way. And with new people... bad people...

I couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten in the house – had he been there the whole time or were the walkers a trap set to lure Daryl away from me? The man may have dressed up that house... after all he'd said I'd fallen for his trap. How many others had fallen for it before me..?

I breathed in deep, and heard as he turned on the radio, breaking the silent hum of the ride as the radio's snarlin' static filled the air, empty and yet full of sound. Like the walkers... It echoed through the car, and into the dark trunk, invading what little sanctuary I had.

What hope was there now? How could I make it back... Daryl; even as great at tracking as he was wouldn't be able to track on pavement... and he'd go nuts tryin' to... but at least I knew he was alive, at least he was safe, even if I wasn't. And maybe, if I got outa this, away from this man, I'd be able to find my way back... meet him later down the line.

But then, like a sign, a sign from Daddy or God to keep on believin' the channel belted out a repetitive and broken sounding message. What could be made out said; _Those who arrive survive, those who arrive survive, sanctuary for all_.

The fear though, of bein' out there alone sank in. The thoughts that if I did try to run – how long would I last? Last time I tried to teach myself any good kind'a skills was the day we'd found the house. And that's when I ignored my surroundings and ended with a twisted ankle, and nearly gotten chomped. So I lay here, weighing my options, the few that I knew I did have; make do with the this new life, and hope God would help me out, or hope Daryl would track us down. The later... runnin', on my own, seemed the most likely for success, but also the most dangerous. Where was he even takin' me, we'd turned once to the right, that much I knew, but the road seemed never ending...

The crackling radio broke through the message once more; _Those who arrive survive, those who arrive survive, sanctuary for all_. And that's what I clung to, hope greeting me through those words... I just had to arrive, and then I'd figure out surviving... one step at a time, that's all. I had faith in the belief that only good people would broadcast somethin' like that to all the rest of us.

I heard an annoyed grumble up front, the dog growled, and there was some clanking noises. But I knew that radio message meant somethin': it meant Daddy was still doin' what he could to look over me, tellin' me to keep goin', keep believing in goodness even when enveloped in the bad. A small smile graced my face at the thought, cracking my dry lips, they stung, and I sucked the blood off them, thirsty and dry mouthed.

All of a sudden the static and dry crackle died off entirely and I assumed he must've popped in a CD, or somethin', as the sound of a strumming guitar rang out, a thick and heavy voice accompanying it;

_Go your way,__  
__I'll take the long way 'round,__  
__I'll find my own way down,__  
__As I should._

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One o' them was strumming on a guitar they'd found, with a dry throaty voice, out of tune and off beat. Sounded more like speakin' along with the music than singin' anythin'.

_And you'll find loss__  
__And you'll fear what you found__  
__When weather comes__  
__Tear him down_

It weren't nothin' pretty, nothin' like her...

_There'll be oats in the water__  
__There'll be birds on the ground__  
_**_There'll be things you never asked her__  
__Oh how they tear at you now_**

I clenched my fists, the knot dug into my skin, cuttin'. There was no sweetness here, no hope, instead the music stung deep like the bruised and cracked ribs under my skin. A reminder that the longer I laid a wreck, the longer it'd be till I got her safe again.

Joe came back down the stairs, along with the sound of the bouncing ball; thump, thump, thump... a dish smashed in the kitchen, bits scatterin' across the floor, cupboards opened and slammed shut.

"Jim, get your ass down here – " the one singin' stopped all o' sudden, listening to the scuffle. "Jim, Clay! Get down here!" I guessed Bandana must o' been Clay.

"Shut the hell up!" Jim hollered back, anger evident in his voice. These idiots were just gunna get one-another killed. They were like a pack o' wild dogs fightin' over scraps, hackles always raised, ready and willing to kill their brothers for anything, even if just scraps...

"Jim – Clayton!" They yelled again tossing the wet shirt they'd previously found amongst them, snickering awful things.

"I'm tryin' ta' sleep!"

"Jimmy; there's a whore shackin' up in 'ere!"

I cringed. _Fuckers._

"Say what?!" His voice perked up, interested, I could hear the slight creek of the bed, assuming he'd sat up.

"Come on down!"

"She hot?," he demanded from upstairs, like if she weren't he'd rather just continue resting. But the floorboards above me creaked, he must o' been on his way. Stirred from sleep at the prospect of... what they'd discovered.

My stomach lurched. Joe trudged by me, smirking and humming as he shoved a spoon down into the open can of beans in his hand. He grinned tauntingly as he messily spooned some into his gaping trap. I pulled myself up against the side wall of the house, just below the window with a view of the back room to my left. The stairs lay ahead of me.

"Just 'er shirt, she ain't here!" Another accused, angrily grabbing it from the dark haired one. I heard the slopping sound of the wet shirt hit the ground, discarded by one of the riled up men.

Jim yelled out gruffly as he came trudgin' down the stairs; "What the hell you hollering a'bout?"

"Found 'er shirt," one replied. "Musta just washed it this mornin'!"

Joe turned back to them, peeling his eyes off of me, "oh – you found her shirt. She'd be miles away by now," his voice was accusing as he scoffed at their find and their excitement. _Idiots,_ he seemed to say.

They didn't seem to mind, Jim grabbed up the wet shirt; "I call first when she gets here!"

Joe walked back, but only halfway toward them, still keepin in the same room as me. He motioned for them to shut it, "we dun' know who she's got with her, need to be ready for anything."

"Hold on," Jim said brightly, "Lemme' grab ma' gun!" With that he turned away from the rest and bounded back up the stairs. I noticed another creek above us, but it wasn't by the stairs, it was closer to where I was, straight up. Someone was here, that was certain.

Jim was up there now too, so musta' bin Rick? I could hear, over the banter in the kitchen, Jims heavy steps, and Joes whistling from on the porch, the sound of something – or somethings – tumbling to the floor. Followed closely by a muffled sounding scuffle.

I peered through my good eye, the other was totally puffed up, into the kitchen; only two o' them were there, and Jim was on his way back down. Cursin' as he tripped on the tennis ball Joe'd tossed aside at the base of the stairs. Joe was out on the porch. So that left the fat baldin' one missing from the rest; un-accounted for as I tallied up my rivals.

Didn't take a genius to figure it out then on; Rick'd taken baldy out, that musta been the scuffle and what-not upstairs.

With Joe on the porch and the other three idiots in the kitchen, slurrin' out ways they'd have their way with Michonne, I was able to prop myself up and peer on out the window behind me. I froze up a little when I noticed two figured far down the street, gettin' closer to the house. I bit my lip and ground my teeth a moment and then spat what blood was left in my mouth to the floor beside me.

"Yo," I huffed angrily; "Yall' done with this initiation crap yet?"

They laughed, "What'a you wanna know for, huh?" Sneering at me.

"I gotta take a piss, that's what for."

They paused, Jim twirled the purple-toned shirt around in his hands, ringing it out violently and chuckled at me, shakin' his head he said; "Then take a piss stupid! Dun' need're permission you know!"

They laughed again at his idiotic remark. "I ain't gunna go sittin' here in my pants boy, I need my hands – you slow or something?"

Their laughter stopped short, they glanced between Jim and I. Moving ever so closer, the roof creaked, and I spoke fast, to keep them from noticing; "Ain't got all day!" Behind them, at the back window, my eyes caught sight of movement, looked like someone dangling off the roof. I knew the thump of them dropping would make a sound so I spoke again; "Shit man," I sighed heavily, sounding defeated; "Yall broke my ribs to shit, aint like I'm gunna pull a fast one on you fuckers, I sure as hell won't make it out _there_ as I am!"

Jim nodded, agreeing as he saw the logic I put before him. "Brando, gimmy a hand will ya," the two o' them came forward, un-knotting the cable. I flexed my hands and rubbed the cuts roughly, grumbling about the pain. They hoisted me up, and I wheezed out, more than I really needed to; gotta act the part. Jim shoved me a little and I stumbled, catching myself on the couch as I made it nearer to the hall, the three just behind me, Jim's hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me short.

"Wade," he hollered up the stairs, "you done wackin' off in the shitter yet?!"

No answer, Jim glanced back at his partners worriedly and pointedly looked at Brando; "get up an check on 'im!"

Brando didn't hesitate, he leaped up the steps, two at a time.

"Stupid fucker..." Jimmy muttered.

That left me with just Jim and the dark haired one, he didn't talk much.

"Oh shit!" Brando yelped, crashing back into the white railing.

"What?!"

"Oh FUCK!" He leaned back over the rail struggling with walker-Wade who snapped and snarled at him. He kept on cursing as he nearly lost his footing and went over the rail. Jim and the dark haired guy just stood their, like deer caught in the headlights. I frowned at their passivity.

"Get it off you fuckers! Get it off! – Shoot it, god-damn it, shoot – fuck, augh, fuck! – Shoot it!"

Jim held up his gun, a shot rang out and the dark haired man yelped, pulling out his own gun, they both missed. Jesus, how'd the idiots even make it this far alive? Here I'd thought they were survivors...

Joe came in swiftly, drawing his weapon as he directed his curses and accusations at Jimmy. He only gave me, standing unbound, a seconds notice before turning to look at Brando's plight above us. The thing finally got the best o' him, lurching forward, Brando shoved himself back but he began to slip over the rail. Walker-Wade grabbed his knees, he dangled a second, gasping wildly in panic and shock before he howled in pain as its teeth sank into his lower leg. Blood spurted down on us like a shower.

Jims gun rang out once more, the sound deafening in the small house. Brandon fell, screamin'. His neck cracked on impact; _snap_. Joe raised his weapon and took the head shot before he could rise again.

I stood stock still. A little uncertain how it'd play out.

Jim looked up guiltily, glancing toward the stairs; "Clay's up there," he coughed. "Sleepin', think Wade got 'im too?"

Joe disappeared up the steps, with no hesitation. He came back about two second after, kicking aside walker-Wade as he scowled at the corpse. "Just a blood trail. Lots of it, Ben, get on up and clear it with me. We need to find him and blow his head off before we end up with another – before that all happens again." He was pissed. His voice steely and cold. I knew I had to get out before anymore shit hit the fan.

I now was left downstairs with only a shaken Jimmy to stop me from leavin'.

I smirked a little, _here we go mother-fuckers, _as I bent and coughed out some blood dramatically. While hunched over I grabbed the small blade I kept in my boot – idiots hadn't checked there. I rose up, wipin' away the blood and saliva that trickled outa my mouth.

I woulda used it on the knot, if it'd been rope, but I figured to wasn't gunna get me outa a cable-bind. I pulled a fresh cigarette outa my pocket, keepin' the blade concealed. I let it hang loosely out of my bloodied mouth. "Gotta' light?"

He nodded stiffly, burying his hands in his hoodie before pulling out an old fashioned lighter. He drew close, flicking it open as the little flame burst up. When he leaned in to light it I swiftly clasped a hand over his mouth, fingers tightly keepin' 'im in place as my blade drew quickly 'cross his throat. He slumped against me, the lighter clattered to the floor. I eased him down slowly, tryin' to avoid any attention for upstairs. The only sound was his drownin' gurgles as he breathed in his own blood.

I snatched the lighter, lit my cigarette, and grabbed my crossbow from the kitchen counter before makin' my way steadily out the front door. I hesitated, glancing back. Shrugging I lit the lighter again and tossed it on the couch. It burst into flames, which soon jumped to the wooden door frame and floor. I smirked, and flipped the house the bird as tribute to Beth.

Runnin' on pure adrenaline now I took off down the way I'd seen Michonne and Carl comin' earlier. The lack o' wind made it easy tracking their strides and steps through the thick leaves, leaving a clear path of three tracks down the road. I kept as fast'a pace as I could, huffin' loud breaths as I pushed onward under the toll of my injuries.

Perhaps I'd given up the chance to find out from Joe where that car had gone off. But I knew this much, Beth would never have to meet up with the likes of him, or his men anytime in the near future. For now, I'd find Rick and them, then I'd focus on trackin' down where she'd been taken.

I'd had a lot of luck today, even if it'd all been in a bad situation, and I couldn't help but smile a little at the reminder that that luck gave me hope, and a chance to make things right.

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**Please let me know how you liked it/any suggestions you've got would be great too! =) I have a plan/plot but if you have anything you think would be cool to add, let me know and I'll see if I can work it in. **


	4. Chapter 4: Good Will

**AN: Hey all, Thank you to my reviewers, you really help me along with the support of your kind words over what you've read. **

**I hope this chapter lives up to the last. It's not as intense. More character development. But it's important for the plot and everything that's to come. Please let me know what you think about the man that took her, and if you like where I'm going with him! =) **

**Enjoy!**

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"_**You're gunna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon."**_

_Those words I'd said mostly as a joke, hardly meanin' what they'd meant. But I couldn't help but think on them now, think on how he'd be playin' with them in his head... like I was tauntin' him with my bein' gone. _

"_**You're gunna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon."**_

_I hated myself for utterin' them so causally. I knew what this world was, I knew what'd done to us, and I knew, somewhere inside when I'd said them that those words were true. _

_Worse... I'd told him he'd be the last one... the last one of us all. Of all of us. Heck, he'd made it out of that house and I'd known, runnin' through that field, to my new existence, that he'd make it... even when I thought of how __**many**__ there'd been. How he'd gone downstairs. Always gotta be the hero... Daryl Dixon, always gotta be the guy puttin' his neck on the line for those close to him. _

_He never said how close he let us get... _

"_**Don't I-unuhh," I'd said, rollin' my eyes and glancing at him shyly. Knowing I'd been tappin' into a soft spot. He'd avoided my question, embarrassed, but tryin' to brush it off, the Dixon way; gruff and unphased. I knew him better now... "What changed your mind?" **_

_I smiled soft as I remembered... he was Daryl, no one ever saw his emotions... no one but me, in that moment. _

_**But like always he didn't voice it... I knew though, I knew he was tellin' me I'd changed his mind that good people were there... because I was there, because he was there. **_

_But now neither of us were there, and I'd found, with crashin' realism that the world was cruel and harsh as ever. I just hoped that like me, he'd get some sign, somethin' tellin' him it'd be okay. That there wasn't time yet for give up, not yet. I nodded to myself, blinkin' back tears. I won't cry, I wouldn't. Not till I lost everythin' only when everythin' and everyone were actually gone would I cry. Till them... till then I'd be proud, proud a' me, proud of Daddie, proud of Daryl. All of'em. _

_I clung to all the good left inside me, ignorin' the jarrin' pain each time the car turned or hit a bump. Nor was I stupid. Just as I'd taught Daryl to believe, he'd taught me to be smart, how to survive. So I'kept in mind the turns we took. I thought up a map in my head. Even if I never got out, or followed it, a'least I tried, a'least I put his skills to good use, like he'd want me to. _

_**... "I'm gettin' good at this, pretty soon I won' need you at all!" **_

_I tried to recall how it'd felt, knowin' goodness with him. Bein' safe, and learnin' about who he was. I imprinted his heartache, kindness and loyalty on my soul. Forcin' it to remind me that I'd see him, if only just once, I'd see him again. I promised him to meet him I'd by the road, and I'm Beth Greene, I keep my promises. _

I felt the car shudder to a halt, and I lay there, in my own head, silent as could be. My heart betrayed my mind, beatin' up a storm inside my chest. The warmth in the small compartment told me one thing; it'd be light out when I saw the outside world again, no more stars above... tonight was over, yesterdays business, and yet inside it felt like night all over and I felt like all my light was slippin' away, stolen by the sky; it'd taunt me when I saw it. It'd loom over me like a glowin' orb, a silent observer to the crimes at hand.

The jarrin' of the side door openin' and closin' made the car rock back an' forth ever so slight. My stomach churned. I aint certain what from, either hunger or motion' sickness, or both. I closed my eyes tight, fearin' the unforgivin' light of day which I didn't want to see. It meant it'd all changed. For good.

_For now._

"_Every moment now, you risk your life, the only thing you can choose is what you're riskin' it for!" _

Daddies words rolled round in my head...

Was Daryl reason enough to risk mine? He sure'd risked his... he'd made that choice without even thinkin' – My existence, my whole bein', was it worth givin' up for Maggie, Glenn, Carl... Rick, Michonne, Carol, or Tyreese? But that's like how Daddy thought; everyone's worth savin' everyone's worth riskin' everythin' for. Because they matter, and without them, without our friends or are family we weren't nothin'... Without them, and still alive, we'd be just like _him_, just like the Governor or perhaps like the man outside.

But the fear I felt was paralyzin', my breath hitchin' in my throat as I waited for this metal coffin to open up an' pull me back into reality.

How'd Daddy always stay so brave? Was he ever this scared – even at the end he graced us with a smile... I took that as his goodbye. His farewell to Rick as he made him proud, and his last sign to us that we'd made him proud too. Brave 'till the very end...

But as the second passed, I began to wonder if I'd ever be released from this darkness. What if he'd been got by some walker, he'd end up dead and I'd be stuck in here till the end, till I asphyxiated and died. I squinted out the small crack which shown in a little light; _where was he?!_

I so badly wanted him to open it up now, to taste the air... but at the same time, I wanted to lay here, dyin'. I chastised myself for thinkin' the thoughts; _if I die, an' if he lets me out, I'd be turned, and I'd take a piece of him with me! _

But that weren't no healthy kinda' thinkin'. It was one of those bad thoughts... the ones I told myself to stay away from. No good ever came outa somethin' bad or wrong. All that thought did was imbed fear and anguish deeper in me. So I pushed it down, mentally smotherin' it, I refused to give up that easy.

"_You're a monster. You're a murderer and a thief, and I'm going to hurt you so bad,"_ his sleek voice wheezed out. The dog growled, and I heard as pebbles scattered, like little pitter-patters 'cross the ground.

"Hush up, you'll scare 'er. She needs my help. Needs redemption!"

What scared me most was the voice was his, both times... that's – that's what took my breath right out'a my lungs like a sledge hammer. Just him... just me an' him.

I blocked out his voice as he argued with himself, not wantin' to know what it was about. I needed to get my head steady, think on some stuff to keep me safe, inside. And so I contemplated Daddies words on how we had our purposes in life and I tried to resolve what mine'd been, or was. Mine wasn't finished yet, I nodded to myself, it wasn't done. I still had more to do, and so I promised myself I'd finish my job before I headed off to meet Daddy somewhere down the line. So I chose my purpose, like how you can choose to risk your life, and my purpose, sure as shootin' was to reunite us all, to bring home Maggie, Glenn, and Daryl. To find Rick and Carl and Michonne, and all the rest... my purpose was to find Daryl's family – us - and his hope and strength in this world.

I fixed my mind on that, this new job of mine; never to let him be the last man standin', I'd always stand with him. I nodded once more to myself, ignorin' my tired and achin' body: Daryl Dixon, it's damn near time that I saved you. I smirked a little, I liked that, Beth Greene, savin' Daryl Dixon.

I remembered things Daddy'd told Rick; that he had to get his head clear, and _do_ somethin'. I have to do that too, I opened my eyes, ready and willin' to work through what god was puttin' on me. I'd do... whatever was necessary, when the time came.

The dog barked harsh, and the latch lifted. Fresh air replaced the stale I'd been livin' in the past hours. The light hurt my eyes, I squinted, tryin' to shade them with my hands. It was blindin', and up there, loomin' down over me was his shadow. Dark and contrastin' against the bright blue sky.

"Good Morning," he said, grabbing my shoulders and roughly pullin' me up, now sittin I saw the dog off behind, under some bush, my boot all torn and broke' in its mouth. "What do you say?"

I glanced back quick, blinkin' against my stingin' eyes as I took in his appearance in the light of day...He was near grey, with peppered lookin' hair. His eyes were reddened under and 'round, sickly lookin' and an off yellow hue seemed to cloud the whites of his eyes. Greenish pupils. He looked sickly, and yet I knew he was strong, the way he'd dragged me, the way he hanked on me now and just by the way he stood; how he held himself.

What I couldn't tear my eyes from though was this jagged scar which ran over his left cheek; it looked deliberate, and pink in contrast to his starkly pale skin. The shape mostly mad it look deliberate; _It was a cross, angrily dug into his cheek. _Stretchin' from his baggy eye to his lips, and from his nose across his cheek bone.

His gross and long blackened nails pinched my arm, I looked away, spooked that he'd seen my starin'. His silver gun came up, and he propped it under my chin, forcin' my sights back on 'im as he caught my frightful and defiant gaze in his; it was soft lookin' and angry all at the same time. Like a disappointed teacher chastizin' a student, like he didn't wanna be angry and was tryin' to tell ya that with his eyes... but also wanted you to know he wans't playin' games neither.

"Didn't you hear me," he prodded, "I know you aren't mute. What do you say to your elders when they say "good morning?"

"M-Mornin'," my voice broke and my clenched teeth chattered as I tried, and failed, to look strong. I inwardly kicked myself. I was so afraid... and I felt stupid as old heck knowin' I'd never pass off that glarin' look like Michonne or Daryl. A sideways look from one'o them and you'd be jumpin' outa your boots with fright.

I physically relaxed as I felt the cold metal release my chin, my eyes starin' at its fine metal work as he held it back from me, down at his side. It weren't like no gun I'd ever seen before. It shone bright, almost sparklin' in the mid-mornin' light. It had silver platin' all over its body, and was engraved, how a nice western show saddle'd be, all dolled up and pretty lookin'.

Again, he noticed my glance, but this time his response was less angry, less volatile; "This is Mary," he said, gleamin' with pride, lips curling upward to expose nasty brownin' and yellow teeth. "Like her?"

My mouth was so dry as I forced the word out; "'course, it's – it's lovely."

"She."

His expression turned to solid stone as he waited for my reply, eyes dartin' up and down my face. "She..." muttered a bit louder than I'd mean, voice squeekin' soft. "Well," I pushed back the fear which tried to drown my voice, stranglin' it out of my throat. "She's lovely." I felt like my whole bein' just wanted to shut down and cry... but I'm done with that, I'd done with tears, they ain't never got no one nowhere. They were weak and useless. And I needed to be strong. I ain't got no one lookin' out for me no more. No more Daddy, no more Daryl or Maggie. I had to be my own kind'a person, my own kinda strength.

_We all got jobs to do_, I reminded myself.

"Come on then," his voice dropped, all hushed soundin' like when Daryl used to talk at Judith. But it weren't nothin' nice to hear, this way of speakin from him, _at me,_ sent chills down my spine. "I'll show you to where you'll be for the next while, before you're allowed to move on..."

I swung my legs outa the trunk, and before I bothered lookin' round at my surroundin's I glared at my puffy black and purple ankle as I watched it seize under my weight. Quiverin', the spasms of pain seemed like they were shootin' daggers all the way up into my core.

I felt the bile rise, bubblin up my stomach walls, into my throat. Reachin' that point where you know you'd drown in it if you took a single breath. I'd tried to swallow it down but his grimy and blackened hand reach out to steady me, makin' contact with my bare shoulder, an' that was that. All I could do was crumple forward onto the ground as I retched on the rottin' leaves litterin' the gravel drive.

My dry and scaly hands strung as the yellow acid bit into them. I didn't even get no chance to recover, before that ugly dog, which I was growin' to hate with all my bein', scurried over, snappin' at me. I sat back, pushin' myself away, and against the big black car-tire. As I looked on in disgust it lapped up the thick liquid, growlin' at my lookin' and snappin' its teeth like a feral animal.

The priest passed me a handkerchief, when I refused it he squatted down, givin' his dog a sharp look. It hushed and stopped its fierce and angry noises. He took my hands softly and wiped off the sick from the skin, I quivered, fightin' back the angry tears which threatened to spill down my cheeks. I hated him bein' nice to me, made me wanna be sick all over, but more than that it made me feel weak and cared for. And I'd never want that from this man before me. Never.

He folded the cloth, so the now dirty sides were coverin' themselves, and wiped away the stringy bits of bile mixed with saliva that clung to my lips like spider webs. It was soft on my damp and dry lips, almost like how I'd imagine silk woulda felt.

I met his eyes, I couldn't help it, he was right there in'front me, a soft look in them that I hadn't seen before. "Thank you," I muttered as he stuffed the dirty cloth back in his pocket. I didn't say it in an honest way, said it out'a habbit mostly... I wasn't me without the manners Daddy'd taught me.

He just nodded, liftin' me gently from the ground and glanced down at my bare and mangled ankle. "We'll wrap that up when we get in, walk with me..."

I was horrified as I glanced at his soft smile. I couldn't speak, I just couldn't. I felt broken all over. But I stumbled on beside him, unable to ignore his lingerin' and worried glance as I cast the dog one last look an' I stumbled on, followin' his lead. He held an arm out 'round me, gingerly, like he was offerin' but wearn't gunna touch me 'less I started stumblin' again. I supposed that to him it might'a bin a gesture of good will... but to me it signified another cage, another restraint all 'round me. Offerin' little an no comfort as I stared at the ground, not botherin' to look at our surroundin's.

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**Thank you all for reading and supporting, - hint - hint; I love reviews ;) I completely get stupid giddy over them so I'd love to hear from all those followers out there what you're thinking about how things are going in the story. **

**Have a great weekend! - I think the next chapter should be up my latest Monday. **


	5. Chapter 5: Father, Saint, Sinner

**AN: So it's a day later than expected, had some writers block, slash was working on an essay for my childhood social development class soooo that delayed THIS. **

**Anyways this chapter jumps around a bit, it's multiple points of view; Beth and Daryl, Beth is going from the present in her POV, to telling us about post car ride, to what she's thinking in her head at the end of her spot. **

**Daryl's is self explanatory. **

**So, why not begin, and figure out where the heck our characters are...**

**Here's the inspiration for this chapter... **

**Skip it if you wanna get to the chapter, or turn it on in the background when you get to Beth's part. **

**"Bottom Of The River"**

www. you tube watch?v=mWlBLV5JZ1U

Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
Hold my hand,  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down

If you get sleep or if you get none  
(The cock's gonna call in the morning, baby)  
Check the cupboard for your daddy's gun  
(Red sun rises like an early warning)  
The Lord's gonna come for your first born son  
(His hair's on fire and his heart is burning)  
Go to the river where the water runs  
(Wash him deep where the tides are turning)

And if you fall...  
And if you fall...

Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
Hold my hand,  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down

The wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight  
(Drunk and driven by a devil's hunger)  
Drive your son like a railroad spike  
(Into the water, let it pull him under)  
Don't you lift him, let him drown alive  
(The good Lord speaks like a rolling thunder)  
Let that fever make the water rise  
(And let the river run dry)

And I said

Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
Hold my hand,  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down  
Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way, a long long long way  
Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down

**Also, as I realize I have not yet said; I own NOTHING... except my villain. **

* * *

Trail stopped at the tracks. The wind was startin' to pick up, erasin' the path I'd followed through the damp leaves. "Damn it," I muttered, glarin' at the railway. Same spot as before, same damn place as I was before all them had got me. All that sufferin' and for nothin'! I huffed out heavy, glarin' at the options before me, the way I'd come... the way I'd been and the ways I could go. I knew one thin', that car'd turned down the one road I hadn' yet traveled, the one down to my current left... I could go to find her... but sooner or later there'd be another damn crossroad or turn off and I knew it'd be daft as old hell to try an' track 'er down in my condition...

My ribs were stabbin' awful at me. Awkwardly I slung my bow over my shoulder, my whole body was movin' stiff. "Urhh," I growled as I pulled up my shirt, lookin' down at the slightly distended abdomen and chest, the bruisin' was near black; gnarly green and purple sections angrily highlightin' it "Bastards got me good."

Pullin' my shirt back down I clasped my arms 'round myself, as if it'd somehow keep me all in place. I couldn't go off for her on my own, sure as hell not in this state: I'd never make it, an' yet again I'd fail 'er, by endin' up dead... she'd be gone for good then!

Couldn't let it play out that way. Had ta' make it work, even if that meant makin' 'er wait some.

I pressed on a little farther, glancin' down the tracks to my lest, inspectin' the ground and chipped wood. I was losin' daylight. Had to find someplace safe, and a ways outa sight from the main road, 'case any o' them survived. I'd lucked out... I ain't gunna luck out twice in one day, ain't no one that invisible.

* * *

My Momma used to say, when things were not quite what they'd seemed, when they went from good to bad real fast that is was like hell in a hand basket; all dolled up, but just as rotten as always inside. That's the thought that came with my new... home as _he_ liked to call it. It was real pretty, nearly as neat and tidy as the funeral home, and just as well furbished. It had a small garden out back, a few crops growin' good with the close water supply... and a fire pit for cookin' and boilin' water on.

The roof was tin, and when a strong wind picked up it rattled incessantly, and at night it kept me up like an owl... the noise, it drew them close, but they couldn't get close enough... you just always heard them, moanin' and groanin' across the way; their voices carried over the water like a loon.

There was a small porch out front, an' a little shed off to the side off the house. Lookin' almost like an outhouse; too small for anythin' special to be inside... but _he_ spent so much time in ther', and ther' was a big old padlock on the door, so only time it's open is when he's inside... I wouldn' dare cross that threshold then... no sort'a curiosity is strong'nough for that kind'a stupid to take place.

This mornin' I sat at the porch steps, watchin' the white dog stare down into the depths of the waters at the end of the dock. I hadn't been out there since he'd first taken me here. I couldn't bare to see it again.

Saint, as _he _told me was the dog's name, yapped insistently and I sighed in annoyance at the constant noise. I had a poundin' headache, and with each yap I felt anger boil deep inside me. _Don't that damn mutt ever shut up!... _and... I find myself thinkin' up nasty about ways I'd hurt it...

That thought made me sigh, I looked down into my warm tea, I sure'd changed since this 'ad begun... My hands shook and the hot water spilled down my hands, and onto my legs. _He'd_ given me the tea in an old clay mug. It looked almost like it were made of spilled lava, or somethin' of the like, by the way the bubbles in the clay stuck up and round it, leavin' some kind'a meltin' lookin' effect on the rim.

I hissed and set the mug down on the tattered and pain-chipped step beside me. I didn't like bein' inside... but I didn't much like bein' out here neither. I was free, in a sense, I wasn't locked in some basement, or dark corner of a room like I'd expected. Nor was he ever really that mean... he still avoided touchin' me when he could. I'd... I'd battled many thoughts of if he were really even that bad, and part of me, just a little part, wanted to accept this new life and pretend it was all okay... but that was weakness talkin'. What he'd done weren't right. He weren't right, and I knew it every time I looked into his eyes.

I don't think he was any kind'a pervert. He hadn't shown any signs of bein' one... just a good man gone wrong I s'pose... hell if I knew, he could'a been bad before all this too!

I spent most of my first two mornin's like this; starin' across the watery void, toward the peninsula of the mainland. There sat the old blue car, back off by the red-pines tree line. I sighed... it was only about two or three hundred feet... and that's what hurt the most; seein' freedom, tastin' it even... but never knowin' when I'd feel it again.

* * *

_He'd taken me into a boat after our short jog from the car. It was just some small rowboat, nothin' big or powerful, not even all that sturdy. He'd told me I should take a look at his collections, I'd learned to listen to what he asked of me, so I didn't take much time falterin' when he nodded at the water which lapped 'gainst the paddles while 'e rowed us 'cross the lake, closer to the small island. _

_In the depths there were all sorts of things... collections of dropped books, and what not... but what stole my sanity, for just the moment I'd looked, were the walkers, live, and chained to the bottom. Their hands clawin' upwards at us as we glided on above them. A bone chilling fever seemed to take over my body as I began gaspin' for breath like a fish out'a water. A cold sweat formed fast across my forehead, the back of my neck and underarms arms and legs. He stopped rowin' to lean toward me "You're just feeling some shock is all," he didn't touch me again, but he held his hands in front of my face, fingers spread, like a child declarin' they could count up to ten on their hands alone. "Count with me; one," he prompted. I sucked in a short breath, but found it just wouldn't go out, all I did was keep on gaspin' air in, lettin' none out. _

_I heard the scrape of nails against the bottom of the boat. "Can – can we just get to the house?" I'd asked, tremblin' in my boot. "Please, I'll be okay there; I just need to get off the water." _

_His hands had fallen limply onto his knees, as his eyes stared forward, inspecting me up, down and back again. Finally he'd nodded and continued rowin', hummin' some hymn to himself. When we reached the dock I'd waited for him to tie us off. The white mutt leapt out and scurried off onto the sandy bank, yappin' as he tore up the shoreline an' splashed in the water. When he had us bound to the metal tie down he turned to me, and reached out a hand. I gingerly took it; I didn't trust the unsteady boat to keep me upright as I stepped up on my injured heel. And I guess I trusted in his steadiness more than that... If he'd wanted to hurt me, he'd o' done so already. _

"_Did you like them," he asked in a quiet voice. My hand was still in his, his eyes peerin' into mine, a near childish innocence within. "My work, did you like it as much as the ones that you found beautiful at the home?" _

_I coughed to hide my shiver, but his eyes continued on searchin', expectin' an answer. "Yes." _

"_You can call me Father," he added. "I am a man of the cloth. And until you know me better... best you call me Father." _

_I wanted to defy him, I wanted to cry out how wrong that was... but instead I just nodded numbly; "Yes... Father," it fell from my lips in a whisper, a contrastin' betrayal to my moral battle within._

* * *

The banks were streamin' with walkers on the other side, and in the forests edge now too, as I looked across the ripplin' water. It wasn't always like that... this must'a been one of the bigger herds passin' by... the few other days I'd been here I'd not seen so many this riled up.

The house he'd taken me to weren't just any kind'a house. It was surrounded by a small lake. It was more near to a cottage than a house, nothin' too big as it sat on a petite muddy island. And if we're bein' totally honest it wasn't really a lake neither, more like a kind'a reservoir where one or two rivers streamed into.

_It reminded me of when Daddy used to take the family down, after Sunday mass, to Lake Redwine for a day on the beach._ _Maggie and I used to stare wide-eyed out the window when we passed the 'Executive homes', as Mamma called them, by the private, northern most lake side. _

My thoughts were interrupted as the shed door clanked shut. I stood up straight, jumpin' right on out of any relaxed type'a state I'd let myself fall into. "Father," I greeted him, "Good-mornin', may God be with you on this day."

He'd told me to greet him as such anytime we'd not seen one another yet in a day.

"Good morning Eve," He said, voice still oily as ever. I drowned under its weight. "Finish your tea before you come in for breakfast."

"What – what're we havin'?"

He held up some kind'a meat, it'd been skinned an' tended to already so I couldn't tell what it was. I nodded. "Thank you Father, I'll finish up and then come help you set the meal."

He shook his head softly. "No child, you stay out here with Saint. Drink your tea and rest that ankle of yours. I'll tend to the meal myself."

I nodded and sat back down once he'd gone back through the yellow screen door. It clanged shut behind him. I could hear him scufflin' 'round the kitchen as I picked up my tea an' stared down at it. It was my favorite; peach, but I couldn't drink it... no matter how sweet it smelled. I couldn't drink knowin' where the water'd come from.

Eventually, when I knew he'd gone out back to the fire pit to start on cookin' I dumped the hot liquid into the rose bush that wound its way up the staircase railin'.

* * *

_The day's I've spent here haven't really been all that bad... he's tended to me well, fixin' me anythin' he thinks I need and then some. Food seems to be in constant supply, when he leaves in his boat Saint goes with him, and I'm left on the island alone... I'd thought about swimmin' to shore, and runnin' off on my own... but it weren't no use knowin' how close the drowned walkers were to the surface. _

_What got under my skin the most was I wasn't sure whether those people down there, those walkers... had been __**me**__ before, had been the people before __**me**__in this god forsaken cabin, or if he'd caught them and put them down there as a security system to keep others out, and to keep some in... _

_The way he would talk about them, he seemed like he'd known them, like this way he was respectin' their livin' while keepin' them useful... but a sinking feelin' kept naggin' at me as I began to realize when he spoke of his garden he weren't speakin' of the cucumbers and tomatoes that grew out back... _

_I hardly sleep here, even when I try to sleep when he's gone and I'm alone...I can't get past the nightmares of the cold hands pullin' me down, as I drown and am ripped open all at once. _

_He calls me Eve... I don't really know why... I asked him and he said that's the name God 'ad given me, and I'd keep it 'till the day he was told I could become more... I didn't dare correct him anymore. I didn't dare defy anythin' he said I just agreed and tried to think about all the ways I'd get free somehow. They were mostly fantasies of Daryl comin' to my rescue, or my heroic escape... but as the days slid by I began to lose hope. Lost hope in Daryl, and lost hope in myself some... _

_I know Daddy, that you wouldn't like me sayin that... but I have to be honest when I talk to you here, at night, I can't lie because you always told me not to... and how do I keep my hope alive when I have no chance, how do I stay who I am, who you taught me to be when I'm bein' changed by a sick world where goodness is gone, or twisted and misunderstood?_

* * *

The throbbin' in my side never let up, got worse mostly. Like some kind'a force barin' down on me, testin' my motivation as I dragged my feet along the tracks. A ways back'd been some sign, said same as the radio message we'd heard months back on a run... I didn't think to turn the other way then, Rick would'a gone to Terminus, if he'd seen it.

Likelihood of findin' them seemed probable, they would'a stuck to the tracks, maybe set-up camp not too far from... close to, but hidden in the brush.

I smelt it before I saw it; the smoke permeatin' through the air.

"I'm takin' watch. You need your rest, someone's got to take care of the kid," my dry and mangled lips split as a smile betrayed my nature, there they were, I could see the soft glow of the camp fire.

"That fire's still burning, you can see the smoke up there even now. It'll draw walkers to it, hopefully keep us out'a their sights for a while yet," Rick replied. "Looked as if it had come from the town we'd bunked in. No use wonderin' now... but alright. You wake me first sign of trouble. Carl hasn't slept much... don't wake him unless we need to get out fast."

"Mhmmm," she replied, her voice muffled by the cracklin' fire. "Got it."

I stood near the clearin' but not wantin' to intrude just yet. I didn't trust my voice, my lungs hurt bad, s'if I'd breathed in some pungent chemical toxins... shufflin' forward though the forest gave 'way my presence. Rick'd just started ta' sit when his head snaped up to the sound o' my draggin' footsteps.

"Sounds like it's just one."

"I'll take care of it," she muttered, gribbin' her katana as she marched into the darkness.

I leaned against a tree as my vision started spottin', like big black puzzle pieces fallin' over my eyes.

Her steps were silent and soft, as she crept forward upon me. "You watch where you swing that thing gurl," I growled, stumbling into her line of sight. "Or you best pray I'm gone if you hit me."

"Well I'll be damned." A toothy grin spread across her face as she trudged forward, snapping branches with now careless steps. "Daryl Dixon, should've known you'd make it out'a that hell hole in one piece."

"Damn straight. I'm invisible, haven' yeh heared?"

She sized me up, "Come on," she nodded "you look like shit, you need some tendin' to, Mr. Invincible."

Rick was waiting for her return, and he nearly stumbled back into the fire when he saw me, chucklin' softly to himself. He ran a hand through his grimy hair and trudged forward, huggin' me like an old friend. I growled out as my injuries protested 'gainst the sudden contact. "What is this," I muttered, "some kind'a bromance? Get hell' off me."

He grinned sideways at me as he pulled back, shakin' his head "You almost look as bad as I did. This happen at the prison?"

"Naw," I shrugged off my bow, glancin' at the sleepin' kid. "happened when I was coverin' for your noisy ass back at that house."

"You were there," he asked, his expression turnin' sober all'a sudden. "You were in the house?"

Michonne meanwhile was rummagin' 'round in her pack, pullin' out tattered gauze, alcohol and a near run-out roll o' surgical tape. "Yeah, burnt the place down once I knew you were out. I was lucky. You were lucky. Hadn't been for me bein' there they'da found and killed you... would'a done worse to them," I nodded at Michonne and Carl. "But I know Samurai can hold her own in a fight. Mostly worried about the kid."

He nodded, turnin' to pace a little as Michonne came up, she motioned toward the log she'd been sittin' on when I'd found 'em. "How bad is it?"

"Could be worse, I ain't bit, could be better."

She nodded, glancin' sideways at Rick, he nodded briefly. "Sit."

"Samurai playin' doctor, huh?"

"Shut up, sit down. Don't wake him. He needs rest," she turned on Rick, the fire reflected in her dark pupils, "you need rest too." Her voice was strict; she'd never taken on much o' this type of responsibility... I wondered how bad a state Rick'd been in when she'd found them.

"How'd you get out," Rick asked suddenly. "How'd you get away from the prison?"

"Same as you I s'pect, walked out... then ran, and didn't bother lookin' back."

"Did you see anyone else when you left?"

I paused, the pain didn't quite compare to the shameful stabbin' in my heart. I nodded, sighin' heavily. "Yeah... I grabbed Beth as we went."

"Did – did she have Judith?"

I shook my head, "She was lookin' 'round for Ass Kicker... but I pulled her out before she could finish, you gotta know Rick I'da stayed and help find 'er... but I saw her carrier empty... either they'd got 'er or someone else'd taken 'er as the shit hit the fan."

"And Beth, where is she now," Michonne asked, crouched in front of me as she motioned for me to take off my shirt.

I couldn't look 'em in the eyes, I stared off at Carl's sleepin' form and replied, my voice more hushed this time, evident anger and disappointment seepin' through; "Some creep took 'er."

"The men at the house?"

"Naw," I shrugged off my leather vest and button up as Michonne inspected the damage. "Some fucker took 'er the night before, had us in some kind'a trap I s'pect. This dolled up fully stocked funeral home... She'd hurt her ankle huntin', so we'd needed someplace safe ta' stay a few nights, 'till she was good enough to walk... we got overrun. She'd gotten out, but when I reached 'er on the road some fucker'd taken 'er in this blue car, a white cross all painted on the back like some kind'a religious freak... I ain't seen 'er since."

"Didn't you go after them?" He accused, though I ain't certain he meant it quite like that.

"Sure as hell I did! But I ain't super human, can't outrun no car, can I? Got caught up with Joe and his crew... ended up at tha' white house – you know most'a the rest."

"Arms; up," Michonne nudged my elbow.

"Damn woman, what more you wan't form me," I jabbed as I reached my achin' arms up best I could, grittin' my teeth at the strain it put on my abdomen and ribs. "Ain't we done with this yet?"

"I said shut up," she warned a half smile creepin' onto 'er face.

Rick paced once more, sighin' heavily as his hands rubbed at his bruised face. "Any idea which way this guy went?"

"Got a general idea... but I wanted to round y'all up, before I went on any kind'a suicide missions."

Michonne bit the tape, tarin' it clean off the roll. She padded it down, shakin' her head once; "I'm not much good at doctor stuff... but that should do it for now, try not to strain it too much... looks pretty nasty under there."

I nodded as she tossed me back my shirt, headin' back to 'er bag to replace her supplies. "You should both sleep... we can talk about Beth in the morning. There's bad people out here. We all know that too well by now..."

I nodded as I clambered down to the fire side. "In the mornin' then," I glanced at Rick.

"In the morning."

* * *

**Please please review! =D You know you waaant to ;) ... and I certainly really want you to. **


	6. Chapter 6: Eve's Sanctuary

**AN: Sorry for such lateness and the small chapter. I'm trying my best to stay on top of this but school is in the final month of exams and it's killing me. Plus I'm trying to vi for a promotion at work which may or may not have been stolen from me. SIGH. Let's simply say; I've been... distracted. Shall we?**

**Anyways, its sort of slow. The Chap. But it's needed for the transitions to come. Bare with me. *smiles* **

* * *

**Chapter 6: Eve's Sanctuary**

**...**

_There are few moments in life that will **always** stand out, few that just in thought make you relive 'em in perfect accuracy. Fewer times yet, do we ever get to experience them twice... _

_Funny that; the most culminatin' experience of my life and here I was experiencin' it a second time. _

* * *

The room I'd been kept to was the only sanctuary I'd been given thus far. The only place he'd not entered. Like some kind'a threshold it held him out'a it. I don' know if that was out'a some kind'a respect for me or just one of his _rules_ about what he does.

Either way I was grateful, or beginning to be. Even if I really only spent my nights here; he'd said it wasn't right to stay in bed all day and asked for me to join him in the yard, tendin' the crops and such. I'd been growin' accustom to this new life of sorts... but that in itself was unsettling. And I hardly kept track anymore to how much time 'ad passed. Keepin' track just began to wear me down an' I knew that wasn't somethin' I could afford. I had to keep strong if I ever wanted out. It was so coldly ironic; there was no walkers, everything I'd been runnin' from was everything I wanted back. I sometimes felt myself missin' it all when the silence of the island struck me.

The trees across the water'd begun to show signs of yellow-green tones; not like spring, not bright or enthrawlin' to look at... a dull yellow settled across the far-stretching canopies. Each mornin' the air was crisper, and though I still refuse to drink my tea preferrin' to take it to the roses when he wasn't watchin', I'd hold it to me longer; keepin' my hands warm and smelling its sweet aroma.

But this mornin' was different, he'd knocked on the door and I could hear the waverin' sound in his usually confident voice. "Eve, it's time."

I furrowed my brow as I begrudgingly slumped off my bed. The bed which'd been like a warm cocoon where I'd apparently overstayed my welcome... "M'kay," I called. "Just give me a moment to dress proper."

I suppose he'd expected a questionin' tone like I'd normally use. Meek and seekin' approval. But this mornin' I was sleepy and irritated by my knowin' that the mark of my emotions changin' meant one thing. I sighed as I tugged the nightgown over my slight shoulders; _usually I or Maggie or someone'd go and find what we'd needed at these times, or the girls and I at the prison would work out a way to deal with it as necessary. I haven't got a way to do so here... so what, I tell him what I need? Hello "Father", I'd kindly like to request that you, on your next run, pick me up some pads from the nearest corner store._

Scoffing at my own thoughts I hurled my nightgown across the room. Anger seeping through my actions as it hit the darkened wood floor. I didn't feel as desperate anymore. I didn't feel as weak as I did first he'd taken me. I was just plain and simply annoyed at it all, and I wanted _out_.

The tap at the door indicated his impatience. "I'm comin' already," I sighed. "I ain't gunna go out there for you to see me in my bare-skin _Preacher_. Hold your horses already, wait 'till I'm dressed and decent."

The door swung open, I gasped and grabbed up the sheets from the mattress, coverin' my bare chest. "You said this's my room. Said I'd not be disturbed here!"

"You'd best do to vanquish that disrespectful tone of yours girly," his phrasing stung like a brutal reminder of the night he'd taken me... the fear and the pain of that night washed over me, drownin' my anger in its desperation.

I bit my lip as he closed the distance between us, there weren't no space behind to back-up to, my rear already square against the nightstand behind me. His loomin' form towered over me and I could smell the rot off him. He'd been out again... fresh rot trailed across the once-white collar of his shirt. "And as I'd spoken of before, it is yours until you disobey me. That I'd never cross the threshold into what was yours 'less you give me reason to. You've just now shown me the utmost disrespect. I have had enough of your mannerisms as of late. You came here kinder than you are now, you came here needing _me, my help_, and I am graciously seeking to give it to you!"

I wanted to cut back with my own words, tell him how sick he was, how he'd never helped me, or treated me right - not ever. I wanted to push him out of my face and tell him how he'd taken me, how he'd broken me, hurt me, caused me emotional and physical pain. I wanted to break down his so called act of good will, disassemble his illusion to show him his own darkness... but, as I sighed out a heavy and reluctant breath, I knew better.

"I'm sorry," I stated, more pointedly than I'd meant to. "I'm not of my normal demeanor today... I'm... overly emotional and... distraught."

He backed away, turning toward the soft yellow of the room, his back to me and the little furniture provided. "You must see what I've done, you must realize the good I seek from you here... how it is my duty to save you and your soul."

"I'm not so sure it can still be saved..."

When he turned back all harshness was gone. He only lingered for a moment more before a soft flush ran across his face as if realizing where he was and what he'd done upon boundin' full force into my room... how un-decently I was presented to him... "I will wait for you in the garden. Come when you're ready," he stepped out, halting a moment still in the doorway, his taunt hand steady on the silver doorknob, "I'm sorry for my behaviour. I let your own seep into my reaction this morning. I shall tailor my responses more accurately before advancing with any action in the future... Now; dress, my child, and take whatever time you need."

Click. The door clasped shut tightly, the dark wood frame clasping around it.

The wind rattled against the tin roof. I stood stock-still, wonderin' just what'd happened... he seemed so peaceful and merciful at times... and then others, just when I'd gain the confidence to allow my own emotions to show he'd turn into the snake I knew him to be and strike out with a vengeance.

Shaking myself out of my wonder, and not wantin' to keep him waitin' longer than necessary, I dropped the sheet to the bed and began to dress with what little warm cloths he'd left in my drawers.

* * *

"How do you even expect to find her," Rick interjected, I shot him a cutting glance as I finished off cleaning my bow. "She's been gone what, two, three days? It's likely who ever took her is either too far gone."

"Or – At terminus," Michonne tried to be a voice of reason in the confliction arising through Rick an' I.

"Ya'll so ready to give up on one o' your ownh. That ain't the crew I'd run with before. That ain't the Rick I knew," I shot each of them the same cold stare before I whirled around, not wantin' any more contact. My lid was 'bout to blow and I didn' need that. I needed to get 'em to reason out why we had to find 'er. "You know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Woodbury took ours we went after them, we hunted 'em down. _You," _I glared at Rick, "Lost Carol's _girl_, ya' lost Sophia and we went after 'er for_ months_." Roundin' on Michonne I gestured to her angrily, advancin' on her, aware of the intimidation I'd meant in my action "_You_ tracked the Governor for _months_. Ain't never given up, even when we thought 'im _dead_. So what the hells got ya'll so lazy now, huh? You lose the damn prison and ya' lost yer'gall too? Lost any kind'a loyalty just cause some dick ruined our happy little play-house?"

"Daryl, you know I'd go if I thought there was any chance. You _know_ I'd follow where you lead me, where you lead _us_. But you also _know_ this is the right choice," Rick urged. "Don't be stupid."

Carl sighed and slung his pack over his shoulder "You're all fightin' and we're losing light. Don't you understand; _this world isn't meant for people like her anymore_!"

His words cut, but the camp fell into a resounding silence. I grit my teeth, allowing myself to drop my guard as I thought back, recallin' how I'd told her that good people didn't make it in this world no more.

"Carl," Michonne's voice broke the silence but she didn' say anythin' more, the glance she'd shared with the boy conveyed all she'd needed to. He sighed and leaned back 'gainst the nearest oak'. "Daryl... Rick's right. We're best off heading to Terminus. It's in the same direction as the road you'd wanted to travel. We go there, maybe are lucky enough to find more of our own and then we collect what information they might have on the car you'd seen. A group as big as that's bound to have lookouts."

"I ain't givin' up on her."

Rick's hand landed solidly on my shoulder; "no one here's askin' you to. We're just askin' for you to have a little more faith... Beth would want her sister to know to... it's likely she'd be at the sanctuary. If she's alive it's likely she too 'as seen the signs here. Anyone of _ours_ would know to go there if they're still breathin'."

"Uh-huh," I twirled a loos arrow round in my hand, mind absent and thinkin' on the decisions bein' made for me lately... I ain't one to like bein' told what to do, even less so of late. Beth an' I'd had our own little way of doin' things since the prison... and it was hard fallin' back into the old role of followin' someone else's plan. Had to admit though, Rick's plan made the most sense... I'd be able to follow the road only 'till the next crossin', then I'd be fucked. I'd be left stranded out here alone, again – I didn't wan' that no more than ever. I never'd wan' to feel like the last one standin'. "Fine, I'll come with... but any sign of her... any sign and we go after – you hear?"

They nodded, or rather Rick and Michonne did, Carl just stared back at me with a cold look in his eye. The kid'd been through hell, worsen' any o' us I s'pect. I'd just have to find a way to re-establish what small friendship we'd built before the prison fell... I could see his trust 'ad gone to the dogs.

"Then it's settled," Michonne once more broke the silence between the four o' us "We go where the tracks lead. Get your stuff, we've lost too much time already."

* * *

Even with all the noise it always seemed silent... a resounding... removal from what I'd been used to, from any semblance of the life I'd known, and suddenly, so obviously, it dawned on me; here, in this house, on this small spit of land, there was no sound of the telltale Georgian crickets, just the ripple of water lapping the shore; foreign and out-of place in my crisp memories of all that I was used to hearin'.

He'd not heard me exit the house. His back still turned. I wondered, in that briefest moment if I could make it to the boat, untie and push off into the deep waters without his notice... I nearly would have, if I'd had a weapon on me for once on the other side there would be more than one threat to face.

_"You scared her – you acted too swiftly. We must be cautious, must be calculated!"_

That stopped me dead still, a bare foot hoverin' over the nearest step off the raised patio.

"You're blind to her deceptive prowess. You'll be her next victim. She's sly, like the viper which rages inside. You must strike it out of her before too late."

"_You're an old foolish man following the tact of the old, outdated, lost."_

"And you are a fool to think your kindness will seek her out, she has been tainted, taken by the deceptions of Eve. Now, she is just like the rest."

"_I see kindness inside; she has not yet fallen into the arms of seduction and torment. She can still be saved!" _

"You know, you know exactly how to save her – it is the same as always. If she has been taken as his disciple it is too late. Each night we wait the more his influence will entwine her. Draw out the beast, draw out and vanquish the temptations which plague her soul! Then and only then will you have helped her, saved her, released her from the heinous clutches of Eve."

My eyes felt dry, kept wide open, fearin' he'd hear the sound of my blinkin'. Waves of terror swept over me and I felt my muscles quiver as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. My breath was next 'ta silent as I tried intently to stay silent as the grave.

This man, this _priest,_ was so much worse off then I'd first assumed. I'd supposed the worst when he'd taken me, feared my life was in danger, right on the edge of death. Yet as time here'd passed I'd begun to wonder if he was just some kind'a messed up lonely fool who'd lost his mind nearer to the begginin'. Lost it while trying' to rationalize this new world which plagued us.

Now I felt the dawning of some new realization. He was dog-gone insane! Perhaps that would explain his differin' attitudes toward me; the violence he'd shown when he'd taken me, the kindness when I'd been released from my metal coffin, and the waverin' kindness he'd shown me since.

This mornin'... when he'd barged in – perhaps that wasn't really the man I'd grown grudgingly accustomed to, but the one which now he spoke with... the one claimin' my wrongness.

The voices, the argument dulled out – silence replacin' it... All I could hear was my own damn heart, thud-thud-thuthud-thud-thud-thuthud. "Lord have mercy," I whispered, brining my bare feet down the steps, onto the grass and dirt bellow. I'd need ta' find my voice. I faught back my instinct to run, and scream. I hadn't the necessities to live even if I did make it... I – as much as I didn't want to admit it – needed to stay... I needed _him_ to survive.

The thought twisted my gut, and I felt an internal lurch of dread.

My steps across the dry Georgian grass crackled as it prickled at my bare skin.

"Eve," his voice was overly calm, and it perturbed me, more than ever, knowin' exactly why he was callin' me that.

"Father," Each time I had to say that _name_ it lashed out against me like a cracked whip, striking the still bleeding wounds of the past. What little energy I had wavered as I tried to not let the fear permeate my voice. "You wished to speak with me?"

He nodded solemnly. "Indeed I did," Turnin' towards me, his back now out to the water, wind rustlin' up behind him, catchin' his hair and cloths.

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**Review? *largest adorablest smiles***


	7. Chapter 7: Sustenance

**AN: Hope you're all liking it - thanks to those who PM'd and reviewed that way, haha! For the rest of ya'll from here on a lot of the majority of chapters will be developing Beth's plot - there will be some 'more' added to come in later chapters - but I can't tell you about that! SHH! It will ruin its crazy factor when it hits! We need the crazy. Love the crazy. **

**Enjoy the chapter. The song I listened to writing this one mostly were I will never Die - Delta Rae. Check that band out actually, if you like essentially any sound one of their songs will have it. Haha. **

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**Chapter 7: **

**Sustenance**

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_She hiccupped and stumbled on an upturned root. Catchin' the rough bark of the tree with her small hands. "Lightweight" I growled, mock' offensive. _

_The moonlight lit her pale face as she shot a stern look back at me. 'Er eyes betrayed 'er though. "Well – hiccup – tha' ain't entirely my – hiccup – fault. Is it Mr. Oooo drink moonshine Beth, it's better than peach schnapps Beth." She'd lowered 'er voice to try an' mimic mine._

_I bit back a smile, shakin' my head as I pushed past her. "You know it was better than'. What kind'a friend would I be if I'd let ya' have a'borin' ass time first ya' drank, hm?" _

_"A friend who – hiccup – didn't want to make Beth go all 'Ooo Daryl lets burn down a house!'," she waved her hands 'round, dramatic-like, face overly expressive. "Arson. I've – hiccup – become an arsonist! – hiccup – you're a bad influence Daryl Dixon... where'd my impulse control go?!" _

_"You say tha' like you had it ta lose. Had we known bout that fire fetish o' yours before, could'a just got ya' drunk an' set ya' on the damn Governor at the start; up comes the sweet young doe eyed blond Christian girl. Woosh. He'd not'a see it comin'. Damn Beth why'd ya' keep such talent under wraps so long?" _

_She laughed through her hiccups, causin' 'er to cough and double over. "Oh yeah – I'd just'a walked up and been all sweet and lovin' and then go bat-bleepin'-crazy! His **eye** would have been so wide, wide with – hiccup – shock and fear. I can see it now!" _

_"C'mon," I sobered my tone, even if still drunk. "We need'a get some shelter. Your hiccupin's gunna get us killed. All kind'a sort's gunna hear it miles 'round and just come'a runnin." _

_"Back to the – hiccup – 'Beth's drunk: Beth's gunna get me killed.' Stance are we? Wha' happened to the strength in crazy? Ya'll got your ways; cross bowin' all over! I think I should 'ave a talent too!" _

_"Ya' do." _

_"Burnin' shit! – Oh shoot!" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I ain't a swearer!" _

_"I didn't know you were an Arsonist either – learn somethin' knew ever' day I hear." _

_She laughed as we trudged on through the undergrowth. "Daryl – Daryl wai-wait. I gotta ask you – I – hiccup – I gotta ask you a very important – hiccup – very serious question!" _

_Her chin was right 'gaints her chest, as she looked up at me under her brow, hands out front, as if ta' physically stop me. I think she'd mean' it ta' look serious. Just looked like she' was a non-rottin' walker or somethin' aweful. "Well? Shoot Greene," I muttered, lookin' 'er over through the dark. _

_"Yeah. That. I wanna know how to shoot somethin' – you know," she mimicked my stance when I held the crossbow ready. "I wanna know how to survive and, and, - and stuff!" _

_I nodded. "Right. In the mornin'." _

_"Beth Greene, Zombie extraordinaire!" _

_"Mhm, c'mon."_

_I'd taken' watch. Girl was half comatose by tha' time we'd set camp, she'd just sort'a flopped down into the leaves an' dirt, heaved a long drawn out sigh, blew the hair from her eye's dramatically and then just drifted out'a consciousness. _

_"Beth," I called, keepin' my voice low; in tha' woods ain't got no safety but silence. "Wake up." _

_"Why do you hate me," she groaned. _

_I squatted down beside 'er, glaring down at her pretty blue eyes. "Who was it that decided it was smart 'ta go out on some blind-man mission 'ta find alcohol?" _

_"Obviously not the doe eyed arsonist," I held a hand out, pullin' 'er to 'er feet. She stumbled slightly. _

_"Who was it tha' decided it'd be best ta' implement this 'never have I ever' drinkin' game?" _

_"You're simply makin' stuff up now Daryl Dixon," she smirked. _

_"You still drunk." _

_"Wow – hey now – I don't even hear a question there." _

_"That's 'cause it weren't one." _

_"Hardly! I ain't drunk," she said. "I just... feel like there's a whole family o' coons runnin wild in my head." With a squinted glance around 'er she shot me a half-assed glare. "Why in the heck are you wakin' me up this early for if you let me, a young teenage girl get hung over?" _

_"That teenage girl asked me 'ta teach 'er 'ta hunt. Mornin," I hoisted my bow 'cross my shoulder. "Is the best time for huntin'." _

_"That wasn't me talkin – it was the arsonist!" _

_"Mhm. Get yourself ready 'girl'. I don't take well 'ta waitin'." _

_She rolled her eyes but swung into action quick as she and I began takin' down the camp perimeter._

_"Oi," I called back as we set off into the thick wood. "Tha's two talents ya got on yer record." _

_Her brow furrowed. "It is?" _

_"Singin' and burnin'." _

_"Shut-up." _

_"Gettin' quite tha' mouth on ya too." _

_"Must be the company I keep." _

* * *

"Breakfast," He uttered softly.

"E-excuse me?"

"You missed breakfast. I'd made you some."

I glanced 'round, shiftin' my weight to fully rest on my good leg. _Least I still got both_, I thought bitterly. "I don't understand. You – wanted me to come out'a my room so quick this mornin'... for a missed breakfast?" There I went again; lacin' my tone with disrespectful soundin' sarcasm. Damn Daryl and his bad influence, I cursed. He really had been right; I wasn't just some meek girl, I was a singin', swearin', arsonist.

"You missed grace," he said more forcefully: That sobered me.

The wind rattled 'gainst the tin roof behind me. I swallowed hard, my mouth felt dry, like swallowin' nothin' but air. "Oh," I breathed – I must'a looked some kind'a stupid though, as the wind swept my quiet voice right out'a my mouth.

He chuckled darkly. Advancing one, slow, calculated step forward. I tried to shuffle back, but I heard the growl start up behind. I bit my lips tight together. I didn' need to look over my shoulder to know Saint was right at my bare heels. I could feel his hot breath quake 'cross them with each of his low growls.

"So scared," his voice soft and airy, like the wind which blew around us. "So meek."

I felt an uncontrollable shiver run through me, hair standin' up all over. I felt the hair on my arms prickle up, a light itch resultin'.

"So weak."

My lips hurt as I clamped my teeth tight on their softness. I knew I'd leave bloody indents on them, but I refused to let them quiver in fear. I kept my eyes planted on his. Daryl would think that was strong; starin' fear down like this. I felt like I'd owe him that, to be the strongest I could be. I think Daddy'd be proud too... in his own way.

He circled me, at my back now. _Shit, in the blindspot_. My eyes watched his shadow closely. And I felt cold in its depth as it blocked out the warmth of sunlight. The wind felt harsher in the darkness.

Saint was now in front o' me his eye locked on my bruised and battered ankle. My stomach turned as I saw the drool drip off his gnarled lips. This time it weren't the breath of a dog on my ankles, it was the breath of the Priest on my neck. "What're you waiting for?"

My breath came in fast, hadn't realized I'd been holdin' in. "Excuse me," I asked, awful baffled.

"It will go cold," each word was over punctuated.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"You have to eat. I want to clean up."

"I can do that," I stammered "Please, I can clean it all up. It's only fair - "

"No. It is not proper of me to ask my guest, my injured guest none the less, to take care of my home. – You are _my_ guest, Eve. You must look to be taken care of, not to take care," I swear I heard him smell me. I moved fast, swivelling 'round to meet him face-to-face. His chest near touched mine as he towered _so close_ over me.

"Okay," I nodded, realizin' that by this point in our interactions I must look like a completely jittery and frantic fool. "Yeah. I'll eat. What – What did you make?"

"Meat."

He'd turned swiftly. _Meat? Who the heck says 'meat' when asked what food'd been made - for **breakfast?** Even when Daryl used to get back from hunts back home ... I was so stupid to have called it that; home. Everyone else called it 'The Prison'. Kept it detached... and here I was talkin' at myself in my head 'bout how much I missed 'home'. Way to get side-tracked Beth... way to start talkin' in the third person inside your head 'Beth'. _He'd lost me to my thoughts as I sat down in the small kitchen.

I couldn't help but notice him hoverin', like how teacher's used to hover over your shoulder when you worked. It felt _so_ intrusive then... I'd kill to have that 'teacher intrusive' feeling again. This just made my skin crawl.

"You get this last time you went out to hunt," I tried to make small talk, tryin' to divert his attention off... well whatever he was thinkin' as he stared onward.

"I don't hunt."

I furrowed my brow, that couldn't be right. "You set snares and traps then," I concluded, fork in hand. He'd pre-cut the pieces small, so I didn't need a knife... he was smart that way; even the smallest knife could be a weapon if someone were desperate enough. Lord knows I was desperate enough now.

He shook his head, leanin' back 'gainst the blue linoleum counter-top. My brow furrowed, fork mid way to my open mouth. My stomach grumbled at the sweet smell of the meat. Goodness it looked delicious. But I couldn't help the naggin' feeling his comment'd given me.

"I don't understand."

"I trade."

I just sat there, blinkin' "Oh," seemed like I said that allot lately.

"Eat."

At the forcefulness in his tone I plopped the chunk of somewhat undercooked meat in my mouth. It certainly tastes fresh, nothin' wrong with it in anyway. I sighed softly as it went down.

"Is it pork," I asked suddenly as I bit into another piece of the juicy meat. "Tastes like it, got that sweet undertone and sort of fattiness of it."

He shrugged - Seemed like far too normal of a gesture for him, funny how when someone so abnormal displays simplistic traits of normality, and suddenly it's more off puttin' than their anomalous tendencies.

"I trade with them when they need something I no longer do, somethin' I've failed... And, in return they provide me with the sustenance to which my garden cannot provide. They have a big group, and whatever animal they have tended it has been rigorously pastured through such cultivation as animal agriculture. Even they don't take to huntin'. They say there's nothin' left but squirrels."

"That makes sense," I nodded, recalling the pigs we'd kept at... at the prison.

"They say they do not want to deplete the natural world, so it is in their best interest to pastor and farm in order to allow for nature to thrive without the added kills of the hunt."

I'd finished now, there'd only been about five small choppy bits. I placed my fork down on the white china like he always request I do; he said it was the polite way to signify to your host that you were done and had enjoyed the meal graciously.

Stepped forward, taking the dish up from in-front o' me. "You might find my library of interest. If you would like. There's a wealth of books there as well as a rather out of tune piano..."

He'd not given me time to answer the sudden change in conversation. Just taken my dish and headed out to the old red water bucked out back.

I sat there, quite still in that moment, hands folded over one-another in my lap. Starin' holes in the white kitchen cupboards opposite me. The door thumped as it swung back on itself when he returned, wet plates in hand.

He shot me a speculative glance as he began to dry the drippin' dishes over the sink, crisp white cloth in hand. "How old are you?"

I swallowed – I had to think on that; how long'd passed since last I... "Perhaps... 18? I think. I was 16 and a bit when I'd left my daddies farm with – with my family. That was about two years...?"

He didn't answer, understandin' I'd just been thinkin' out load to myself as I hummed over my own age. How odd... to forget to keep track o' somethin' so simple. What odd things we take for granted in life... when it's just about 'life'.

"Must be nearin' three by now," I nodded along with my conclusion.

"So, about 19 then?"

"I suspect so, yeah."

_How in the heck did I think it was okay to keep track of 'days without incidents' but I hadn't thought to keep any kind'a track of how old I was. How perturbin' it was to not even know your own age! _

"It must be... difficult. Growing up into a lady, in this world."

"I think," I sighed, leanin' back into the wood chair. "I think I've kept my head straight most of it. I 'spose growin' up just... happened, before I even realized. But I ain't no kind'a lady... I ain't no girl neither. I'm a survivor."

_Girls die, _I thought of Sophia. _Ladies die_, I thought or Lori. _Survivors... they keep on goin',_ and I thought of Michonne and my sister. Those were the types of role models a young woman had; survivors. So that's just what I'd become.

He opened an' closed some cupboards, puttin' now dry dishes in their white cabnets before turnin' back to me. He busied himself foldin' the white dryin' cloth. Then clasped his hands in'front o' him as he leaned back into the counter once more. The window over the kitchen sink squarely behind him, framin' him in the illuminated pink lace drapes which hung'round it.

"What kind of deeds and personal actions or decisions have you made, in order to 'survive'?"

His stare bore into my soul, like he knew somethin' I didn'. That stare... it said everythin'.

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**Review! Let me know if you love me, hate me, want me to turn into a walker, wanna walker-drown me, wanna Rick-style my neck, you know, whatever pleases you! **


	8. Chapter 8: Revival

Dear readers and new readers! I know it's been forever. I had trouble keeping up with this story due to personal issues and needing to take a step away from dark topics. But its more than due time that i revive it. I have been working on the finishing plot, and have calculated in new information we found out since last December about the whole Beth/Daryl thing. I honestly feel they do work as a couple at this point. As my readers I would like to know if you think I should keep this story platonic, or if should they reunite that they show their truer feelings? I certainly believe Daryl loved her - whether she loved him back we'll never really know. But I can sway my story how you think might be best. I have some very dark plans for this story - which is why I'd stepped away from it, because I had so much trouble connecting them all. But I think I've got a good concluding sequence worked out and within the next week hope for a revival update! Hope ya'll enjoy it when it comes =D


	9. Chapter 9: Obedience

**Chapter 9: Obedience**

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**It only takes one second. One second and it's over. Never let your guard down.**

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_"What kind of deeds, what personal actions or choices have you made in order to 'survive'?" _

His stare bore into my soul, like he knew somethin' I didn'. That stare ... it said everythin'.

"What Kinda' things do you mean? ... survivin's just survivin'. Ain't much story to tell ..." I said numbly, fearin' I might anger him again with any wrong word. Any wrong _tone. _

He shifted slightly, as if in deep thought. The old counter creaked against his weight as he ran a hand over his dirt covered face. "Just talk, child, tell me about all of it. Everyone has a story to tell." An' an oily smile graced his dark features. "And I have the ears to listen."

Just lookin' at him made my skin crawl, the smug smile on his face; like he arrogantly believed he was helpin'. An' ... perhaps due to the same fear from ealier, or maybe jus' 'cause I did indeed _need_ to talk I found myself waywardly hopin' if I told _my_ story right he'd see, see my true goodness. My faith, my love, my life. My soul.

He cleared his throat impatiently, catchin' my blue eyes in his green ones. His glance, steady an' cold as ever.

The words began floodin' out; "I - I guess my story starts back when the world went to hell. When the walkers - when they took over. My family, they kept it mostly a secret... or maybe they even kept the truth from themselves... I can't tell you which was true. I just know they didn' let on much 'bout what was goin' on out there. An' when someone we knew - when it happened to _them,_ Daddy, he told us everythin' would be alrigh'. Just another sickness, an' that eventually they'd get better. That we could trust him 'bout that, 'cause he trusted God would make it right again.

But - as much as his intentions might'a been pure ... he gave us false hope - hope we clung to even when _they_ got Mama. Even when she - when it took her from us," I shook my head, fleein' from the memories which threatened to cascade through my mind. "I - I was too sheltered then. So, when a group seekin' refuge came to our doorstep with another version of what was happin' to our world - to our people... I didn' wan't to believe it. Their truth meant - it meant Mama _was_ gone. For good.

We'd all been so sheltered ... unable to accept it. But this group, unlike us, they'd been our there. They'd survived. An' when they finally got us to see - when I finally saw their truth ... that the walkers might 'ave once been human, but would never be again. That they weren't our friends, nor our family no more. They were just a threat - a danger. That they had to be put down...

When - when it all crashed down - that heavy realization, I felt like the world was over. An' - I guess 'cause my Daddy had set it all up in our heads to be fixed by God I ... I lost faith for a while. Until I realized that givin' up on faith wasn't the answer. God wasn't punishin' us. He was givin' us a precious gift; life. I still live, I still breath. Because God allows it. Bein' alive now, in this world, is a greater gift that it ever was before. An' every day I tell myself to remember - to be grateful for every breath, every heart beat... To be grateful for the ones I lost, and the ones I still have.

So. I - I chose to survive. I _learned_ to survive. To fight, to never let go of this gift I've been given. An' to not let those around me lose sight of it either. That group, the one who told us how it is now, they saved us. They taught us how to survive. How to savor life and all its goodness. They taught me to shoot, when to run, and when to stand my ground. They taught me everythin' they knew about survivin. An' I taught them that you ain't really survivin' u'less you remember to believe in doin' good; for others, and for yourself." I bit my lip softly. "Daddy taught us the belief in good is the strongest tool of survival. That without it you risk losin' more than your life; you risk losin' yourself. We only got so many choices now. An' the ones we have; we gotta make them count for somethin', somethin' better than _us_."

"If you truly believe in goodness, above all else, above all other needs. Why, tell me, did you do it?"

His question shook me to my core. His voice still held a feigned kindness, but I knew better by now. I could practically smell the danger behind it.

"Do ... what?"

"Fall unto temptation."

"I - I don' know what you mean." I felt my face begin to turn red, flush; flustered, afraid, confused.

"Greed, in taking that which was not yours to take. Seduction in swaying another to do so by your side - to fall into _his_ hands when taking the fruit of another's labour's. By mere fact it wasn't yours to take outlaws your taking it, in the eyes of God."

I clenched my teeth to stop them rattlin'. "I - I didn't!" I bit back, resentin' the accusation.

"The Funeral home!" He bellowed, his face practically blood red - veins poppin'. Stark blue hues spider webbin' 'cross his jawline and temples. Eyes poppin', as if threaten to fall out, the blood pressure surely pushin' them unnaturally outward.

My mouth hung open as I gasped out my own words; "That's unfair! Daryl an' I weren't radin' it! We were just survinin', just like anyone else in this damned world! I - I was in the middle of _thankin_' whoever left that food there when you set those walkers on us! We were just in need of shelter, of food, just 'till my ankle healed. 'Till it was safe again!"

He advanced forward, pullin me up by my chin from the chair - it clattered back against the hardwood unforgivin'ly. His nails cut into my skin, the rough of his hands scrapin' at me. "Never take that tone with me. I know your sins," his sickly sweet breath filled my nostrils as he leaned forward, inches from my face. "You will come to know them to. I'll make sure of that. Only in obedience, and forgiveness will you be released from the chains Eve holds on you. You still have time to be saved. To be embraced by the Father's graces. But you mustn't lie or evade the truth. You must accept; only through acceptance will you find forgiveness."

I shivered, I'd made him angry, again. So much for trust in goodness. I grappled with his hand which still clung tightly onto me. "You don't know nothin'!" I echoed the words Daryl'd spat at me only a few weeks prior. "God meant for us to _thrive_! God meant for us to work together! To love, and be loved! To help those in need! Not to punish them! Daryl an' I - ".

"God meant you and your kind to suffer. Suffering, the duty of he good. Obedience in our suffering, like Christ in his. In goodness we believe, in silence we suffer. For this is his test, of our faith, of our likeness to him, and to Christ. Life is his great test of our resolve. You are a failure if you believe anything else. You sin, in his name, to alleviate your own trials, to escape his will."

His hand slipped down my chin, encirclin' my slender neck. I was on my tiptoes now, gaspin' violently for air as I kicked and struggled against his vise-grip. "I didn't do nothin'" I choked out. "I survived."

In my anger and increasin' desperation I swung my fist down on his upturned elbow with all my force. His nails sliced deeply into my skin as he pulled back in shock. "You don't know nothin'" I repeated, glarin' him down. My voice gone completely feral. "An' you can either accept that, or you can start to listen to me an' realize I ain't that kind of survivor on your own time!"

He backed off some, putting a least five to seven strides between us as he inspected his now bruised arm. "You'll learn - soon." He muttered, eyes still lookin' down.

An' - for that moment, brief as it was, I thought the ordeal was over. 'Till I heard the soft click of his belt, 'till I heard it slide from bellow the belt-loops in a swift an' soft 'swoopin'' sound. An' all I noticed for a moment was the damp Georgia air which hung in the small cabin.

My whole body was on extreme alert. My heart rate spiked in adrenaline as he folded the black leather strap into his left hand before he crossed the distance between us. I turned, fast'as I could, tryin' to dash out of reach. His free hand caught my oily ponytail an' the force of the abrupt action cracked my head backward, my neck an' muscles makin' an aweful tearin' sound. I cried out as I crashed backward into him.

An' in the second it took me to catch my breath he had me thown down against the table. My face flush with the cool surface. The rest was like slow motion. My ears rang; a high pitch-buzzin' noise fillin' up the air, blockin' out every sound other than my own heart. I fought to get back up, my feeble an' shakin' arms fightin' to push up against the table-top, to right myself. But my attempts were easily thwarted as he shoved me harshly back down, the force of the action increasin' with each attempt. Third time, is most definitely _not_ the charm. He threw me back down so hard I felt a sick crackin' in my ribs, an' all the air in my lungs seemed to vanish instantly. I coughed violently. Saliva involuntarily slippin' out'a my lips, dampenin' the table. My cheek now sticky feelin' on the slick surface. My breath was laboured, low, and rattlin' in my chest. The world was still ringin' as I hopelessly waited for what would come, my eyes clasped tightly shut now.

I heard the **crack** before I felt it. The leather sharply splittin' the skin across my back. And I counted, silently in my head; I counted each **crack**, each time my skin ripped open, each cry of anguish which escaped my parted lips.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

An' then I could breath again. My back burnt like a ragin' fire. I felt bile risin' in my throat. Chokin' my laboured breath as it spil't from my parted lips. I was too weak to care. I was too defeated to give a damn when the acid seared the fresh cuts on my neck, on my chin. I was too broken to give a damn that I was layin' face-first in my own damned puke.

I felt the warm thickness of blood drippin' down my sides; onto the table, spreadin' everywhere. I was aware, yet uncarin' as I felt the the blood coatin' my back, drip down my pant's an' into the crease of my backside. _It didn' matter anymore_. None of it did. The blood was hot, like the tears on my face; wet, hot, red.

I heard the slight **_thlop_** of the leather hittin' the floor, heard the tin roof rattle in the soft breeze... I heard the soft lap of the water on the shore just outside the door. The russlin' trees beyond this cursed island. I heard as he stepped away, his footfalls soft and deliberate. I heard a drawer open and close. I heard my breath. I heard my heart thuddin' weakly in my chest. I heard his footfalls as he returned. I heard his own laboured breath.

I felt numb.

I felt like the world was spinnin' away from me. I felt dizzy an' sick, numb.

The seconds ticked by like hours. Movin' as slow an' as quiet as possible - you might have even thought time itself has stopped.

Then, like life had snapped it's fingers everythin' came rushin back; speedin' back into reality. The blindin' pain, my pinched, laboured breath - hot an' heavy against the table; bubbles of spit and bile catchin' with each exhale.

His hand laced unforgivin'ly back into my hair. Pullin' me upright, my screamin' wounds flush against him. A broken sob escaped my stingin' lips. The acid burnin' into them. The pain intensified with every movement he forced me to make. He roughly dragged me 'cross the kitchen, an' out the swingin' screen door. The world spun; I saw the sky, saw Saint dash inside, saw him lap at the blood covered belt.

He dragged me down the porch, my feet collectin' splinters as they caught roughly on the wooden steps. He dragged me 'cross the the dirty lawn, down to the water's edge. He dragged me accross the unsteady dock. I lost my footin' completely as he stepped onto that rickety wood. Fallin' only to be upheld by my golden locks. My scalp stung as I cried out once more. My limbs flailin' as I tried best I could to upright myself, strugglin' to catch my footin'.

I kicked and lurched against the forced movement, my fingers reachin' blindly for anythin' to grab onto.

At the end of the dock he tossed me ungraciously to my knees. The skin there rubbed raw from the force of the movement. The sensation vaguely reminded me of when Daddy'd taught me to ride my first two-wheeler bicycle. _I'd fallen into the gravel drive and sat there cryin' as I inspected the road-rash which rippled across my skin._

I watched wearily, weakly, as he soaked a hand-towel in the cool water. I hissed in pain when he stood above me, pullin' my shirt off'a me. His hands delicately avoidin' my bare skin. I didn't have the energy to process it, let alone fight the action. Next he pressed the cold wet cloth into the deep lashes and rubbed. I let out a sharp cry an' collapsed forward involuntarily onto my open palms. Slivers of wood deeply penetrated my supple skin.

My eyes locked on a walker bellow, 'bout four or five feet out. Tears streamed down my face; for her ... for me ... for all of it.

I vaguely registered him talkin' as he pressed on, rubbin' and washin' the thick lashes. Each time I let out a shrill cry of protest. He was talkin 'bout obedience, an' discipline. 'Bout God and the release of sin through blood-lettin' - through sufferin'.

How I wished I had the strength to toss him into the sullied waters, to watch as the walkers sank their rottin' teeth into his flesh, to watch as they tore him bit from bit. That bitter anger fueled me for only a few more moments. Until it all went black. Last thing I saw was that walker's water-logged, puffy and rottin' face. The cold water bitin' into my open wounds was the last thing I felt as I gave into the darkness which had been ebbin' at the edges of my vision.

And for that moment at least, the darkness was comfort. Comfort from pain. And forgotten were the events at hand. One last thing escaped my lips as my mind gave out "Daryl."

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_"She dead?"_

_"She's just gone..." _


	10. Brief Memory

**Here's a wee preview/mini chapter to keep everyone alive and breathing. **

_Daddy, do you remember when I was somethin' near seven years old an' I sat in our little tack-room cleanin' bridles with you? Do you remember what I asked? What you told me..? I do. Just like it was yesterday; the sweet smell of fresh alfalfa hay, the sound of Nelly and the other horses as they shifted around their flakes in their pine-shavin' box stalls. The strong waft of sweet-feed, beet pulp and Bute which you were mixin' up for Grenich, the old geldin' who's hoof had begun to abscess that mornin'. _

_You'd said to me, while I cried over Grenich, while you treated him, that you'd not seen a bond as strong as the one between him and me since as long as you could recall. The old horse use to follow me wherever he could, and when he couldn't all he could do was pace the gate lookin' for me, callin' out to me too. You'd said we must'ave been some kind'a soul mates; bound together beyond this very realm. _

_And while you whipped up his medicated dinner mash I sat there, all starry eyed and twirled the leather reins I was __**supposed**__ to be cleanin' round and round in my small hands. Right then, as the powdered Bute caught in the breeze of the open door, wafting the ever-sweet cherry smell upwards I'd asked: _

_"Daddy – What's a soul mate?" in a very small, meek and deathly curious voice. _

_An amused smile graced your features as you put the Bute away and sat across from me on the old Tack-Lockers. "Well – it's ... it's uh..." And for a moment you seemed stumped. I guess maybe because the world usually made soul-mates some kind'a romantic thing, and I think you wanted to be able to explain that it didn't always have to be so – that it could simply be a bond beyond words. Or maybe you simply didn't wan't to explain the difference between a romantic one and a non romantic one – or, perhaps were nervous to have me askin' next what 'romance' was and how romantic soul mates showed their love different than non-romantic ones. What ever the case was I'll always remember the following words of wisdom: "It's like a best friend – but more. It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It's someone who makes you a better person. Actually – they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself. Because they inspire you. A soul mate is someone you carry with you forever. It's the one person who knew you and accepted you, believed in you before anyone else did. Or, when no one else would. And no matter what happens you'll always love them. Nothin' can ever change that."_

_I'd gotten such a huge smile I felt it all the way through my body as I declared: "Then Grenich __**is**__ my soul mate. But that means you are too Daddy!" _

_Your laugh filled the creakin' old barn, warmin' my heart then just as much as it does now rememberin' it. "And your mine too Doodlebug," You'd picked up Gren's mash and walked by me – rufflin' my blond locks as you passed. _

_I'd jumped off my perch and cheered out after you; "But Daddy! How many soul mates can one person 'ave?" _

_That had made you frown a little. "As many as your heart can bear to hold." And a sad tone crept over you then, like a distant memory had begun to pain you. I'd left it at that then, my little brow mimicking your furrow as I followed you to watch Gren eat his special-mash. _

_And as I stood, lookin' in on Gren you'd reached down and held my little hand in your big rough and callused one. I remember as I traced my fingers over those wrinkles and calluses, hopin' one day all my hard work with Gren and the other horses would lead to hands which I could be as proud of as I was of yours: all your hard work for all those 'round you shown on them like a road map of care and love. _

_You were right Daddy – You can have more than two soul mates. And they don't always have to be romantic... not all of them. _

_"So you do think there are still good people around! ... what changed your mind?" _

_"Ya'know." He met my eyes with a gaze I'd not expected from him; delicate. Almost... askin' permision to even be lookin' - to even be speakin'. _

_"What? What changed your mind?" He just kept on lookin'. "What?" _

_"I'unno."_

_"Don't I'unno - What changed your mind? _

_ And our eyes locked. And I knew. _

_... _**_Oh_**_ ..."_

_My heart fluttered. Oh ... they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself. Because they inspire you ... the one person who knew you and accepted you, believed in you before anyone else did ... and no matter what happens you'll always love them. Nothin' can ever change that. _

**_Oh..._**


	11. Chapter 10: Whip-lashed, Alive

**Chapter 10: Whip-lashed, Alive**

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**AN: Hope you all are enjoying, I am SO sorry for the insane delay. I've been dealing with a lot of writers block in connecting the plot through the chapters/chatacters, etc. I would love to hear from you all again on how you think this is going. Feedback is always great. I'm writing this for all of you - so I want you to love it.**

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_S'like I can't breath... my words never fall from my mouth, feels like they're made of tar, stickin' in my throat and burnin'. I feel like a fish out'a water as I open an' close my mouth to no avail. _

_"You ain't a happy drunk at'll." _

_"Stop."_

_Tears roll down my dry sun-burnt cheeks. Leakin' out of my tightly clasped eyes. Can't open them... I keep tryin' but it's like – it's like when I was seven an' I had pink eye... like they're sewn shut or molded together._

_Everythin' hurts in this darkness. My body aches and groans unforgivingly at me as I writhe helplessly, yearning for it all to end... for release._

_"Sure'as hell nev'r cut ma' wrists lookin' fur attention!" _

_Those words hurt so-so bad... the memory of what I'd done to Daddy, Maggie... Jimmy, Patricia... _

_The fear transforms, tearin' at me, sunkin' me down into some deep-dark pit. _

_I near cry as the world stops spinnin'. I don't necessarily see it, but I feel it; the fear. So scared. An' then I'm collapsed over top of my mother's broken and rottin' body... there are others, I'm vaguely aware of, littering the ground around me. The stench is overwhelming; I can taste it. _

_Tears stream more freely. _

_No – please no – this can't happen again... I can't live this moment again! _

_I wan'to scream. I wanna run to my Daddy... But when I look to him in the darkness, all this blackness 'round us, he's bleedin'. On his knees and bleedin' an' then his leg's are fallin' from under him an' suddenly he's rottin' too. Broken... _

_I feel like my voice is trapped inside me as a scream rattles in my chest, yet never emits from my mouth; caught again in the burnin' tar. _

_"The hell ya' do that fur – we was havin' fun!" _

_I can't speak. The world I knew falls away again, like a whirl-wind of blind emotion and memory. _

_The barn and the walkers fade away at the sudden and harsh words. The voice is so loud it almost physically hurts to hear it yellin'. _

_Stop, please stop yellin'... _

_"What'a ya' wan' from me girl? Huh?!"_

_Daryl... that's right... it's Daryl's voice. I wanna to tell him I'm lost – like he was, but even worse... I wanna tell him I'm bein' broken far worse than before. I wanna to tell him I'm sorry – that I didn't mean... I didn't mean to leave him. _

_"...That what you think?"_

_I didn't mean to leave him there, alone. _

_God, why can't I speak? Please... Daddy... I need – I need to tell him I'm fighten' for him. For me! I'm gunna make it. _

_I ain't just another dead girl... _

_"You dun' know nothing!"_

_The pain bites into my aching body all over again, I feel a flush of fever boil up inside me... I see it all circle 'round again; losin' Daddy... the prison... Daryl; he's so broken... like an injured animal he's vicious, angry... scared. _

_I'm scared too..._

_"Ain't afraid o' nothin'..."_

_I try emitin' another scream. My chest just rattles; empty. My lungs are failin' me. I feel like I'm drownin'... I feel like the pain'l never stop. _

_Daryl... I'm scared too... I wanna be strong... but I don't know how to stop this. I don't know -_

_"Too close, huh? You know all about that! Ya' lost two boyfrien's; you can't even shed a tear! Yu'r whole families gone an' all ya' can do is go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch!"_

_I wish I were just some dumb college bitch... I wish it was all that simple. I wish for so much... none of it ever comes true. I just want the pain to stop. _

_"No! You don' get it! E'ryone we know's dead!"_

_Everyone... everyone I know... they don't even know I'm alive. Am I even alive? Does death hurt this much...? Is this what __**he**__ meant... that this is what is waitin' for us on the 'other side'? Is this my death? _

_"Migh' as well be 'cause you ain' never gunna see 'em again!" _

_How could you say that now? After everythin' we've been through – how'd we get back here..?_

_He doesn't answer... of course he doesn't, I berate myself, I never spoke... ain't a mind-reader._

_Oh how I wish I could see them... here, in this darkness, in this blindness. To touch them... to hold them. _

_I wish I were dead, even if it meant this pain, just so I could be with those lost... _

_"Rick. You ain' never gunna see Maggie again!" _

"STOP!"

A piercing scream rings in my ears. I feel it in my very core. I feel it shake my bones. Tears pooled in my suddenly open eyes blind me, blurring my surroundings indefinitely. I blink, frantic to see. _Am I still breathin?_

The pain's worse. Oh god! The pain...

_I am still breathin'._

The salty brine of my tears strings bitterly as it streaks down either side of my face. I'm starin' up at the ceilin'. The musty' lookin' paint job peelin' in the Georgia humidity.

'I feel like I'm set ablaze. Like I've been engulfed in a ragin' fire. Everythin' hurts. _Everythin'_.

"D-" my voice breaks, crackin', dry and strained. My lips are chapped, the skin bubblin' up, like a blister. "D-" I cough roughly and feel like my whole body's breakin' into a million little pieces as the force of the motion shakes every muscle in my core. "Da-" _why can't I speak!_ "Ugh!"

I groan as more tears streak from my eyes. My hands clench around the bed-sheets which pool around me, coverin' my broken body.

_"I don't cry anymore Daryl."_

My brain feels like I've been kicked in the head by a horse. It's so scrambled. I can hardly make out left from right. My dry throat is screamin' at me for water, parched, rough... it feels just as blistered as my lips do.

I close my eyes to the harsh light of the room, imaginin' a lake. A big ol' lake full of fresh, soothin' water. I hum softly at the thought.

The lake... in the fog of my muddled mind... somethin' about it... somethin' about it strikes terror in me. Engulfin' me in cold sweat.

"Dar-" my voice fails once more... bitterly I curse my parched throat, bitin' the insides of my cheeks I set my mind to it fiercely. "Daryl!"

Though I force myself to utter name it comes out broken, like when you have a cold and it steals your voice 'til you're left with a hissin' rattlin' noise every time you speak.

...

Nothin' answers my hapless call. Not in this musty ol' room. Not anywhere.

_The lake._

I gasp, my breath shudderin' in. I blink back my onslaught of fresh tears. This is my life now. This. Here. In this room.

The memories flood back and the pain suddenly makes sense... _the lake_. I fight the urge to gag, how the heck did this happen to _me?_ How did I get here? I thought I was finally becomin' someone. Finally becomin' a true _survivor_. Yet now here I lay, broken, battered, beaten.

The scream which woke me from my fevered dreams... it was _me_. I hiss as I shift enough to glance 'round the small room: _My room_, _my prison._ Like a mantra my mind keeps repeat'en the same thoughts; is this all that's left – is this my final fight?

I suppose there's worse ways to go... I suppose I could be ripped apart by walkers, or shot down brutally without a second thought. I suppose my end could mean everythin' or nothin' to the world. _Would this mean nothin'? Wouldn't dyin' here alone, wouldn't lettin' him kill me mean I'm nothin'?_ God help me.

If my life, and death, were ever gunna' mean somethin'... then I suppose it's up to me _what_ it means to this new world.

_Every breath we take we risk our lives._

What matters is what we're riskin' it for.

_Oh Daddy... if you only knew how hard this was. I know I gotta make some good of this. If not for myself... than for the next woman this madman intends to nab. _

There's a brisk knock on my door, rousin' me from my dark thoughts – _was I really thinkin' on killin' a human bein', does he count as a human bein' or a monster? _The door creaks awfully, swingin' inward to the musty room. "Eve," _he_ says. I don't see him; can't turn my head that far. Hurts too bad, but I know it's _him_. "You're awake."

_How observant_, I want to cut back – but I know it ain't wise. Nor do I even trust my voice will work; didn't before, why should it now? Instead I offer a soft hum in acknowledgement.

"It's been near three days Eve. You've been burning with the fires of Lucifer and the fallen ever since your reap of penance."

My eyes grow wide. _Three days? I've been out three days?_

"You were burning up something awful the past two anyways. I thought I might lose you Eve – as I have so many others. But the lord promised a return, and here you are," he crossed the room, now standing above me. _He's too clean today._ He places a tray at my bedside; though I don't see it I hear the antagonizing slosh of water.

He reaches forward and places a cold hand across my forehead, his thick fingers proceed to trace down my temple, to my cheek, over my chin... down my neck. "Such a divine creature," his voice drifts somewhere new... _somewhere darker_. "It isn't any wonder you tempt those in this world to commit acts of temptation, acts of Eve; or is it possible you're from Lilith's harem little mouse?"

I frown, deeply unsettled by the new depth _he_ is beginning to show of himself. Until three days ago he wasn't more than a madman who hardly ever touched me. Now... now he's beaten me bloody; beaten me senseless. Now his fingers linger on my pale and dry skin... I swallow back the risin' bile in my throat. Releasin' a chest rattlin' cough instead.

"Poor mouse..." his fingers brush over my collar bone, dancing across my exposed skin. "You had such a fever these past nights. It's good to see its subsiding. I hadn't been able to rouse you – no matter _what_ I tried."

I bite my tongue, wishing his hand off my skin, wishing I was burnin' up so bad it seared his hand at his unwarranted touch.

Then, as if my prayer was answered he swiftly removes his hand; a look of guilt-ridden horror flashin' in his own face as his eyes search mine. For his new reaction to my state I frown deeply, releasin' the hold my teeth have on my tongue before it begins to bleed.

"I – uh – I brought you some refreshments Beth," his voice cracks with newly-found uncertainty. "I know you must be parched beyond words."

For a moment I feel my hatred ebb, I feel the fear subside; hope takin' over residence in my head. _Water_. I moan softly, my own eyes pleadin' for the sweet refreshment.

He fumbles for a moment before he lifts the mug from the bedside table, from the tray he'd sat there. "I apologize, for it is not cold... _What is these days..?_ ... I hadn't time to retrieve fresh enough water. I boiled it, as we usually do. Here, if – if I may," he glances down at me, nodding at my head, offerin' to lift it enough for me to take a sip. "I don't want you choking on it..." he trails off lamely.

Part of me screams internally; this man, this monster traverses between good and evil so quickly I get whiplash. However... I dearly need the help, and the water...

Unable to nod on my own accord – without risk of severe pain shootin' across my back, _no thanks to him_ – I instead grace him with a good-natured smile. Genuine, at least given the thought of water.

His now delicate fingers lightly assist my body; guiding my head up, just enough to place the mug at my cracking and blistered lips. He gently pours the warm liquid into my awaitin' mouth. _I feel so helpless... so defiled... so violated; havin' to rely on him... bein' this weak in front of him. Needin' him._ Though my mind berates the action my body nearly groans in pleasure and before I know it the mug is empty and his apologetic look is findin' my now open eyes.

He eases my head back onto the frayed pillow and places the mug back on the tray, out of sight.

"Beth," he softly calls my attention back to him. "I put a pain killer in the water... it will help you rest again."

I grimace at the unwanted offence. _I don't want to go back to the tortured blackness... I want to be able to think. I want to be able to make a plan... to survive..._

"It was necessary Beth. You'll need your strength for the coming tests he has for you," then, with an apologetic smile he finishes; "Sleep my child. Your pain is not in vain..."

The world feels fuzzy, hazy, all of a sudden. The small tunnel of vision I had prior begins to swirl around me. I blink, tryin' to focus on my captor to no avail. My eyelids feel like they hold the weight of the world... and then I'm back in the darkness.

_Back in the abyss._

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**Please R&amp;R - I love hearing from you all! It seriously helps the flow of chapters in the story too - lets me know you're actually out there and that people are reading this thing. **


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